


The Instructor

by irishgirl321



Series: Agent Bedivere [2]
Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Character Death, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Loss, Slow Build, Spies & Secret Agents, They were never enemies per se, kind of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-11
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-06-09 01:04:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 25,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15256014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irishgirl321/pseuds/irishgirl321
Summary: After losing someone you’re extremely close to, you get saddled with an exceptionally unwanted job: to train the new candidates to replace Agent Lancelot. Trouble is, you don’t see much potential in any of them. But even as a know-it-all Kingsman agent, people can still surprise you. And, as someone once said, posh girls love a bit of rough.Even if it takes them some time to realise it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright! Here we are. I've been working on this and mapping it out in my mind since November (I only saw Kingsman for the first time then, can you believe it?!). Hopefully you guys like it! If you haven't already, I would recommend you going to read the prequel to this first. It's called 'The Recruit' and it is listed as Part One of this series. Eggsy is not in the prequel not really, but it gives background to the character of Bedivere. It also goes towards explaining why she's an angry and snappy at the start. Losing someone isn't ever easy. So she won't be exactly nice for the first little bit.
> 
> If you don't want to read it all, I'd recommend reading the first two chapters of it so you know how she started out and get an idea of how she became Bedivere. This story takes place around a year after 'The Recruit' ends.
> 
> Also just an FYI incase you didn't read... the Reader character is Harry Hart's adopted daughter. He was her godfather who took her in after her parents died as an infant, and so is the only parent she even knew. She switches between calling him "Dad" and "Harry" kind of at will.

A lump built in your throat as you saw the red insignia displayed on the little screen.

_Lance._

_No._

_This had to be some kind of mistake._

Deep down, you knew it wasn’t. You knew with your own gut instinct, and by the suddenly sad expression on Harry’s face.

It felt like the world fell away, that nothing was real. Even Harry, who was sitting right beside you in the back seat of the car felt distant, as if he was far away at the other end of a tunnel. You heard him whisper your name, but the pain spreading through your body was so intense that you couldn’t speak. If you opened your mouth you’d surely start screaming, and you thought that if you started you may never be able to stop.

Instead you squeezed your eyes closed, head falling back against the headrest as tears built up in your eyes. Desperately, you tried to control your breathing. You could feel your chest rising and falling rapidly, and knew you were starting to hyperventilate. Your fists clenched at your sides, and you could feel your fingernails cutting into the flesh of your palms.

The pain was sharp and stinging, but nothing like what you felt inside. You grit your teeth, and dug your nails in harder. Physical pain somewhat gave you something else to focus on, rather than the anguish swirling inside your chest. Something warm touched your hand, the one that was resting rigidly on the middle seat in the back of the car. Your eyes opened, managing to contain their tears, and you took in Harry’s hand on top of your own.

He was squeezing your fingers gently, reassuringly. His thumb stroked over your skin, trying to comfort you. A single tear broke the dam of your eyelids, and trickled down your cheek. Affectionately, he shifted in his seat, turning his torso to face you and used his other hand to wipe it away on the pad of his thumb. Rather than retracting his hand, he continued to stroke your cheek, just under your Kingsman glasses.

“We need to go in,” he told you softly, and you nodded. He gave you another reassuring smile, face twisted in sadness, before facing the driver. “To the shop, please.”

You sighed, feeling your heart ache in your chest. Raising your hand, you wiped at your eyes, trying to rid yourself of the tears before they could fall. When you walked into the office, you didn’t want the others to know you had been crying. You doubted that any of them would be. Your lip trembled, but you managed to keep the avalanche inside at bay. Mourning would come later, but now you had work to do.

“What happens now?” You enquired quietly, voice shaky and barely more than a whisper.

Harry exhaled loudly, biting his lip. “We meet, we have a moment of silence, and then we go about selecting his replacement.”

“Already?” You asked brokenly. “That seems so… so callous.”

Harry shrugged, though he looked bothered. “It’s our way.”

You abruptly removed your hand from under his, folding your arms across your chest. “I… I don’t think I can put anyone forward. I don’t know anyone who could replace him.”

“You can’t think like that,” Harry said. “It’s not a replacement, but a continuation. The table needs to have all its seats.”

“Still,” you sighed, trying to keep your voice from cracking. “I don’t think I can do it.”

Harry rubbed a hand over his face. Finally, you looked at him. He seemed to have aged ten years in just a few moments. “Talk to Arthur. He may understand.”

You didn’t say anything else, just nodded.

The rest of the journey passed in silence. Harry must have known that you weren’t properly capable of a conversation, because he simply left you be. Or maybe he simply wasn’t up for talking either. Either way, neither of you spoke, though he never let go of your hand during the rest of the car ride.   
The car pulled up in-front of the shop soon after. For a moment, neither of you moved. A few seconds passed, before Harry sighed, hands rising to rake through his impeccable hair. You just stared forward, seeing his movements from your peripheral vision. He reached out, yanking open the handle to step out of the car. You knew you needed to get out, but couldn’t bring yourself to move.

When you had gotten into this car, Lance had been alive. Well, maybe he hadn’t, but he’d been alive to _you_. Leaving it, stepping out into another scenario… It was the first place that you entered knowing Lancelot was dead. For some reason, some strange, unexplainable reason, you couldn’t do it. You didn’t want to move. Moving seemed like admitting it somehow.

_Not Lance. Please not Lance…_

The door beside you opened suddenly, causing you to jump. Harry poked his head in, a sad smile on his face. You could see he was trying to be reassuring, but his own upset was tangible. His fingers extended towards you, and you just looked at them.

Harry sighed. “Come on, peanut. I know it’s hard, but we have to go in. They won’t start without us.”

You closed your eyes for a brief second, willing yourself not to cry. Then you nodded glumly, took his hand, and let him help you out of the car. Subdued, you ascended the steps to the shop, Harry reaching forward to open the door for you. You thanked him quietly, and stepped in.

It was deathly silent. Usually the record player made soft music, and quiet chatter among tailors filled the air. Today there was no noise, and the desk clerk just sat there, staring blankly at the ledger in-front of him. You inclined your head towards him, mouth clamped shut. You could feel your lower lip quivering.

“Arthur’s in the dining room,” he told you gently.

Together, yourself and Harry strode through the shop. When you reached the double doors outside the room, you took hold of the handle with a shaking hand, and pulled it open. You held it as Harry strode through, bowing your head before following him in.

Arthur was seated at the head of the table, a deep frown creasing his brow. A decanter sat in-front of him, along with three glasses.

“Ah. Galahad. Bedivere. The others were beginning to wonder if we were going to have a triple toast.”

_Christ. Not fucking necessary right now._

You bit down on the scowl twisting down your mouth. Harry continued around the table, taking his seat on Arthur’s right. You yourself sat two places down from your adoptive father, in the traditional seat of Agent Bedivere. Taking your glasses from your inner breast pocket, you put them on. Immediately you could now see the holographic images of the other agents, joining you via super-techy-Skype-call from all over the world.

“Gentlemen… And woman,” Arthur smiled at you kindly. “I’m thankful to say it’s been seventeen years since we last had occasion to use this particular decanter. Lancelot was an outstanding agent and a true Kingsman.”

Your attention was drawn to the picture and profile displayed over the mirror opposite you. Once more, the lump in your throat built, but you ignored the uncomfortable sensation it brought. It hurt to look at his image, to know you’d never see him again. It was even worse to let your gaze slip down to his vacant seat below.

“He will be sorely missed,” Arthur continued, and you felt your head hanging as you fought back tears. Arthur lifted his glass. “To Lancelot.”

“To Lancelot,” you murmured along with everyone else, toasting to him.

You shot the brandy in one swift gulp, feeling it burn your throat. The pain was good, distracting for a mere moment.

“I intend to start selection for Lancelot’s replacement tomorrow,” Arthur decreed, eyes running seriously over everyone.

_Tomorrow? Seriously? Not even one whole day just to mourn? Were you all as fucking replaceable as that?_

“I want each of you to propose a candidate and have them report to UK HQ no later than 9pm GMT. Thank you.” Arthur nodded, removing his glasses.

Everyone followed suit, and as soon as the lenses left your eyes, the holographic men before you were gone. You realised you hadn’t even looked to see if Percival was there, though you knew he certainly was.

A footstep thudded by the door to the dining room, your attention drawn to the sound. Merlin stepped in, looking stoic and serious. As per usual, he held his trusty tablet against his chest. His eyes immediately fixed on you, and concern pulled his mouth downwards. You glanced away, staring at the table-top. You didn’t need anyone examining you right now.

“Merlin, come in,” Arthur invited. Turning to you and Harry, Arthur began to speak once more. “Lancelot was investigating a group of mercenaries who were experimenting with biological weaponry,” the older man explained.

“Glasses, please,” Merlin interrupted, finger tapping away on the screen.

Popping them back on once more, you turned your attention back to what the tech wizard was showing you. A black and white image of dead bodies loaded onto the mirror screen.

“Uganda, 2012. Synthetic catanoms. They put it in the water supply of a guerilla army base where it caused rage, cannibalism, multiple fatalities.”

“A zombie virus?” You asked, grief giving away to disbelief for a brief moment.

“Not quite,” Merlin continued with a slight chuckle, changing the image displayed. “Chechnya 2013, insurgents turned on one another, indisputably the work of armed mercenaries but no trace of any chemicals of any kind.”

“So what happened to Lancelot?” Harry leaned forward his his chair, and you felt yourself shift too as you listened even more intently than before.

The screen changed again, now displaying a picture of a log cabin covered in snow. It was a pretty place, but you stared at it with hate and tears in your eyes. That was where he had died.

“He tracked it to this property in Argentina. While he had them under surveillance he became aware that they had effected a kidnapping, so he executed a solo rescue mission which failed.”

You slumped against the back of your seat, covering your face with your hands. It took a few seconds this time to get yourself under control again. _Fucking hell, Lance. You could never just wait for back-up, could you?_

“This is his last transmission,” Merlin said solemnly, and you looked back to six words on the screen.

‘KIDNAP VICTIM IS PROFESSOR JAMES ARNOLD.’

“Who is he?” You and Harry pressed at the same time.

“Some climate change doomsdayer, spouting something called the ‘Gaia theory’ about the world healing itself or something.” Merlin didn’t seem impressed, a heavy frown creasing his face. “But what’s curious is, he’s not actually missing. This is professor Arnold, in Imperial College this morning.” Video feed of a man walking across a windy square had your face twist in confusion.

You glanced over to see Harry leaning forward, staring intently at the screen. All at once, a rush of both comfort and worry shot through you. If anyone would get to the bottom of this, it was your godfather. Adoptive father. But Lance was gone. The Kingsman agents had always seemed so indestructible, the fact that one of them, especially him, could die had completely shattered your reality. And if something happened to Harry…

Merlin handed Harry a folder, and then it was official. Your dad was on the case. You had no idea how you really felt about it.

“Don’t forget your membership proposal,” Arthur added as Harry flipped through the file. “Maybe pick a more suitable candidate this year.”

You snorted. As much as you loved Arthur, his prejudice could know no bounds. Though it made sense in some ways, the Kingsman group had always been made up of a specific group of people and had always been successful. But you knew enough about the man who’d saved your godfather’s life to feel that blind discrimination wasn’t the answer.

“Seventeen years,” Harry growled, “and you still evolving with the times remains an entirely foreign concept to you. Need I remind you that I wouldn’t even be here for that young man. He was as much Kingsman material as any of them. More so.”

“He wasn’t exactly one of us, was he? Let’s face it, Galahad, your little experiment failed.”

“With respect Arthur, you’re a snob.” Harry pushed himself to his feet, and you smothered a laugh.

“With respect Harry-”

“The world is changing,” Harry strode away, only pausing to press a kiss to your hair as he passed. “There’s a reason why aristocrats developed weak chins.”

With that, he was gone. You chuckled quietly, pushing the chair back as you got to your feet to follow him out. Just as you stood, Arthur spoke. “Agent Bedivere. I want a word with you for a moment.”

You nodded, and sunk back down into your chair. Clasping your hands together to hide their shaking, you let them rest on the table in-front of you. You watched as Arthur poured another drink, before motioning for you to pass your own glass back up to him. Reaching for it, you flicked your wrist and sent it spinning up the table. It stopped dead in his grip, and he filled it halfway before motioning for you to join him in Harry’s just vacated seat.

You did as asked, sliding into the chair next to him and trying to appear alert and unemotional. However, the warm lump was still present in your throat, constantly reminding you of the intense emotions you were suppressing. Beside you, Arthur sighed, and deposited the glass down right next to your hand. Your fingers grasped it and you immediately drank deeply. When you had put it down, Arthur finally spoke.

“I don’t want you to put forward a candidate, Agent Bedivere.”

You nodded slowly, playing with the glass. “That’s a relief, sir. I wouldn’t know who to propose.”

He chuckled slightly, but the amusement died on his face in an instant. “Lancelot was a great loss. A great loss indeed… But we have to move on. The reason why I don’t want you putting forward a candidate is partly because you have only been an agent for little over a year. You are intelligent and resourceful, there’s no denying that, but I feel like a bit more time in our ranks is needed before you select who to add to them. We are a specific breed, you see. That needs to be recognised and maintained. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Arthur.” _No, Arthur._

“Good. That aside, perhaps my most significant reasons for not having you put forward a prospect is because I want you to be heavily involved in their training. I know it will be difficult, but you have to realise that who we choose will be closer in age to yourself than any of the rest of us. Due to this, you will most likely be paired with them on many missions requiring two parties.”

Your hands stilled their tapping on the glass. “You want me to teach them? You only just said I’d only been a Kingsman for over a year.”

“And yet, skillswise you are one of our best. Lancelot saw to that. Teach them, so that whoever is chosen is your perfect partner. Tailor them to be so.”

You sighed, running a hand over your face. “I don’t know how I feel about this. Training someone to be Lance’s replacement…”

“Agent Lancelot would understand the necessity. And I’m sorry, dear one, but this is non negotiable. Yourself and Merlin will train the recruits.”

Your eyes bore into the table. Arthur had been like a kindly grandfather to you for most of your life. Hell, you pretty much considered him such. It was sometimes difficult to remember that he was in-fact now your boss. There was no way out, no way to refuse. Instead of shouting that it was unfair, that it would hurt too much, you simply nodded and calmly said, “as you wish, Arthur.”

His warm hand landed on your own, causing you to jump in shock. “I don’t mean to unsympathetic, child. I really don’t. This is simply what has to be done.”

You exhaled loudly, slumping back in the chair. Dragging your eyes upwards, you finally met his gaze. He looked sad too. His mouth turned down, and his eyes held a deep upset. Seeing your understanding, he gave you a small smile and squeezed your fingers comfortingly. Plucking his glass off the table, he downed the rest of it before pushing back his chair and rising to his feet.

“Harry is probably waiting for you outside. You should go with him. I need to go inform James’s sister of what’s happened to him.” He frowned. “I truly despise this part.”

 _Oh God. Laura._ Your hands clapped to your mouth, and this time the tears very nearly spilled over. _His sister and his little nieces and nephews… They were going to be so heartbroken._ You inhaled shakily, and grabbed Arthur’s arm to hold him back at he started to walk towards the door.

“Let me do it,” you said hoarsely. “It should be me.”

For a long moment, he stared at you. You knew he was debating it, but you also knew that he knew you were right. Sighing, he stooped down to press a kiss to your hair. “As you wish. I’ll go get James’s affairs in-order, review his will and all that.”

_Lance’s will. Christ._

Unable to speak anymore, you simply nodded. Arthur gave you another sympathetic smile, before leaving the room. On the table, your arm began to shake violently, banging off the table as you tried not to cry. You took hold of it with the other hand, pressing it against the table by your wrist and holding it steady. Your teeth gritted with the effort, cold sweat breaking out on your skin. After a few minutes the bout of emotion passed, and you slumped back against the seat.

The door opened seconds later, and Harry’s familiar head peeked in. His look was worried, face twisted in concern as he spotted you. You rose to your feet before he could see anything. “Fine. I’m fine.”

He only nodded as you pushed past him. You were out of the shop in seconds, down onto the street. You must have moved fast as when Harry skittered out the door a few seconds after you he was breathing heavily. Gaze fixed on the passing cars, you wished you could just disappear into them.

“Will we go back home, peanut?” Harry’s voice was soft in your ear.

You shook your head. “I have to go tell his sister.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment, obviously taken aback. “Sweetheart, someone else can do that.”

_Could they?_

“No,” you shook your head slowly. “It has to be me.”

You thought he may argue, that he may try convince you not to. But he didn’t. He must have seen some broken determination on your face that told him you had to do this. Or maybe he just knew that it would be best coming from you.

Whatever the reason, he didn’t dispute it. You turned to him with tear-filled eyes. “Will you bring me?”

_Will you sit in the car while I do this? Will you wait for me when I get out? Will you just please not fucking leave me alone today?_

_You were a Kingsman. An adult. You shouldn’t need your father. But today you did._

His arms wrapped around your body, pulling you into his chest. Your hands grabbed fistfuls of his shirt, clinging to him as your entire body shook with pent up emotion. You were hyperventilating, breathing coming in short, sharp gasps. Still, no tears fell from your eyes.

He simply hugged you, whispering soft reassurances in your ear and calming you in ways that only a loving parent could. Godfather or not, you had never felt safer than with Harry at your side. Except maybe with Lance.

Your partner. Your best friend.

“I’ll come with you,” he whispered in your ear. “I’ll stay with you. Always.”

Eventually managing to pull yourself together, you climbed into the car. Harry followed, pulling the door closed behind him. You simply stared out the window as he gave the address to the driver, once more reaching into the middle seat to take your hand.

You squeezed your eyes closed. Trying to concentrate, trying to block everything out for a minute. Just so you could figure out what the fuck you were going to say. _How do you tell someone that their big brother, their only brother, just died?_ _How do you tell them when you can’t say how or for what reason?_ You truly had no clue.

The journey passed in total silence, and soon enough you pulled up in-front of Laura and her husband’s town house. You stared up at it, wide eyed and panicked. It was painted white, with flowerpots containing bright plants along the window. A rusty bike sat at the door, and in the small gate, just before the steps up to the front door, a child had drawn a hopscotch grid in chalk on the ground. It was a family place, a happy place. _And you were about to go in there and tear it all down._

“You really don’t have to do this,” Harry spoke up, drawing your attention back to him. His own gaze was also fixed on the house in-front. “I don’t mind doing it. I have before.”

_He didn’t want to do it. But he would for you._

“No,” you said softly, turning to press a light kiss to his cheek. “It really does need to be me. Just me.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you, at least?” He seemed troubled.

“It’s alright,” you answered. “Stay here.”

Opening your door, you stepped out onto the pavement. You went to slam it closed, but paused. Bending down to peer back in, you called softly, “Dad?”

“Yes, peanut?”

“I love you.”

A small smile grew on his face. “I love you too.”

You shut the door, leaning against it for a moment to gather yourself. Once you felt you had enough of a handle on it, you straightened and strode towards the house. Unlatching the gate, you stepped in, smiling sadly at the chalk in the stone tiles. Your legs seemed to drag as you slowly mounted the stairs.

And then you stood at the top. Through the wood, you could hear children shrieking and laughing.  A minute passed and you just gazed at the door, gathering yourself. Taking a deep breath, you raised your enclosed fist to the wood and wrapped against it.

“Coming!” A woman called, and you heard muffled footsteps.

The door swung inwards, revealing Laura’s smiling face. You always thought that she and her brother looked alike, and now the resemblance hurt more than ever. It was hard to look at her, but you fought to keep your eyes on her face rather than letting them sink to the doorframe.

“Oh my God!” She cried, looking happy. “What a surprise! Is James here too?”

She stepped forward to peer out the door, trying to see if her brother was hiding somewhere. She spotted the car, and her eyes narrowed in on it. After a moment, she realised it wasn’t Lance who sat inside, and so confusion began to spread across her face.

“Laura…” You managed to choke out, and hearing your voice her confusion changed to worry. “Is Clive here?”

She nodded, reaching to touch your arm with gentle fingers. “_____, are you alright? Where’s James? Has something happened?”

You floundered, not knowing what to say. Eventually you settled on. “You should get Clive, you both should hear…”

“Come in,” she said, tugging you in the door.

Your legs seemed to stop functioning completely, and you almost fell. Staggering into the house, you followed her into the kitchen. Clive stood at the oven, an apron on as he cooked dinner. Catching sight of you, he sent a beaming smile your way. It faded as he saw your undoubtedly pale face and Laura’s slightly panicked one.

“Kids,” he called, not taking his eyes from you, “go watch TV in the next room, okay?”

You barely noticed them greeting you as they trooped out, could only stare at the steam rising from the cooker. Clive switched it off, and Laura began to guide you towards the table. You half collapsed into the chair. They seated themselves on the other side of you, eyes intent on you. You could see Laura gripping Clive’s arm tightly.

“What’s going on?” Clive asked softly. “Where’s James?”

You wrung your hands together on your lap. “He’s… There was an… an accident.”

You didn’t miss the way Laura’s face seemed to drain of all colour. She knew. In that moment she read the look on your face, and she knew. But she hoped she was wrong, and so she swallowed heavily and kept watching you desperately.

“Is he okay?” Clive pressed. “What hospital is he in?”

“He’s not here. He was on a… He was on a business trip. He’s…”

You voice died in your throat. All you could do was sit there, breathing heavily, unable to stop staring at them. Clive cleared his throat, a flash of fear crossing his face. “_____. Is James okay? Is he…”

“He’s dead.” It didn’t sound like your voice. Some mangled, warped version of it. “He’s dead.”

It took a few agonising moments for your words to full sink in. Laura let out a scream, covering her face with her hands. Clive’s arms immediately wrapped around her, trying to calm her down. She was sobbing heavily, body jerking with the motions. You simply stared at your hands.

“I’m sorry,” you said quietly. “I thought I should be the one to tell you.”

“How?” Laura croaked. You looked up to see tear-streaked face peering at you from Clive’s arms. “What happened?”

You shook your head. “I’m not sure myself.”

“Then how do you know he’s dead?”

“There was confirmation,” you shook your head. “He _is_ dead, Laura. I’m sorry.”

“His body,” Clive said hoarsely, “what’s happening with that?”

“I… I don’t know.” _You were so unprepared. You shouldn’t have done this._ “Someone should be in contact with you soon. Someone who knows the specifics.” Unsteadily, you got to your feet. You couldn’t stay, couldn’t be here any longer. Laura’s grief was almost overwhelming, and you felt a pang of guilt in the jumble of everything else that you couldn’t cry right now. You looked emotionless, like you didn’t care. But you cared _so much._ “I just… I’lll leave,” you stammered, chair scraping on the ground as you stumbled away from the table.

Your head was pounding. The world spun. It felt like you were going to faint.

Barely able to see straight, you just about made it to the kitchen door. _Air, fresh air._ Everything tilted. Dizzily, you reached for the handle, trying to ignore Laura’s messy sobs. The door swung open of its own accord, instead replaced by a small body.

“____, are you alright?” A high voice asked worriedly.

A high-pitched whine filled your ears. You thought you’d throw up.

Laura’s eldest boy, Spencer, stood at the door. He was eleven, and he looked so very like his uncle. A miniature Lance, right there in-front of you. You didn’t notice your knees giving out, but next thing you were eye level with the child. Unable to stop yourself, you reached for his face and cradled it. He knew you well enough by now that he didn’t flinch from your touch, only uncomfortable due to the wild expression on your face.

Brown eyes, brown hair. So like Laura. So like him.

And the dam broke. Your face crumpled. Tears erupted from you. Loud, messy sobs that had you gasping for breath but unable to get it. You weren’t even aware that you were hunching over, curling in on yourself as you tried to hold yourself together. It felt like you were breaking, fragmenting into pieces. _Your best friend was dead. He was fucking gone, and he was never fucking coming back._

Nausea churned inside you, and you felt yourself gagging amongst the gasps. Your forehead touched cool tile, and you dimly recognised that you had curled up so much that your head was pressing into the floor. Wetness covered your face, and your body shuddered. Suddenly, arms draped around you as someone hugged you. You looked up to see Laura, her own face messy with anguish.

She cupped your face, pulling you up slightly so you stared into hers. A broken smile crossed her face, and she pressed her forehead against yours. “You know he loved you, right?”

 

***

 

An hour later you trudged out of the house, and silently got into the car beside Harry. He didn’t speak either, not then, just slid into the middle seat and put an arm around your shoulder. You leaned into him, head resting on his chest as his hands stroked your hair. The car slowly pulled away from the curb. Everything seemed subdued.

“The first time you experience death in relation to someone you love is one of the hardest things ever,” Harry interrupted the quiet. “When your mother died alongside in that car crash, it was the worst moment of my entire life. I thought that I may never quite recover. But I did, because though I lost her, I got _you_. A daughter. You may not be my blood, but I never could love anything more than you, peanut. Even Mr Pickle didn’t come close.”

You laughed slightly, playing with the buttons on his shirt. Like you used to do when you were a child and went into his room seeking reassurance after you had had a bad dream. He’d tell you a happy story, and you’d listen while fiddling with the buttons on his shirt. “I don’t really get your point, Dad.”

“My point is, that though this feels like the worst thing that could have happened, it may not be. Something good can come from it. Something new. You just have to be open to it.”


	2. Chapter 2

When you woke the following morning, your eyes were crusted from crying and lack of sleep. They hurt, aching dully, and you pushed yourself off your bed and stumbled into the ensuite attached to your room. Turning on the tap, you damped a cloth and rubbed it over your face, the water bringing cool relief to your irritated skin. You stood there for a few minutes, holding the washcloth to your face as it dripped onto your pyjama shirt, before placing it back on the towel rack to dry.

Sighing to yourself, you trudged back into your bedroom. Your old bedroom. Not wanting to be alone last night, you didn’t opt to return to your own house and instead chose to stay in your old room at Harry’s. It made it a bit easier, knowing he was right down the hall as you slept. The two of you had stayed up into the early hours of the morning.

It seemed like you went through a lot of alcohol as you sat silently and drank, but you hadn’t gotten drunk. You’d wanted to. It may have brought some relief.

Back on your nightstand, your phone began to ring. Groaning to yourself, you went over to retrieve it. The name on the screen had you grumble again. _Arthur_. Ignoring it was not an  option, however, so you picked it up.

“Hello.”

“Good morning, dear,” his voice came from the other end of the line. “I hope you slept well last night?”

“Not at all,” you chuckled slightly, sitting back down on the bed. “And I presume you’re not simply ringing to ask me that? I haven’t forgotten to report for my training brief at 7pm.”

“Very good, but this isn’t about that. Our executor called. The one for Lancelot’s will. Apparently you have been left something. The reading will take place at 12pm at the shop, and they expect all parties to be there.”

You glanced at the clock on your bedside table. 9:47am.

“Thanks Arthur,” you replied, swallowing thickly. “I’ll be there.”

“See you soon, my dear.”

“Bye,” you hung up.

For a moment you just sat there, staring at the phone in your hands. Lance had… left you something? You tried to think what it could be, but nothing came to mind. Knowing him, it was probably some joke present or something. You could almost imagine him sitting in the clouds, watching as you opened some box with a tear-streaked face,and then  howling laughing as confetti exploded outwards from its depths. _Yeah, that’d be the kind of shit he’d do._

Sighing, you got to your feet. Padding down the hall, you reached Harry’s room. Your fist rose, ready to knock, and then the door swung inwards. You leapt back in surprise, and Harry started too as he stepped out the door. He was in the middle of tying a tie, as immaculately dressed as always.

“Are you going somewhere?” You asked curiously. _Was he about to leave and not tell you?_

“Yes,” he nodded, “I was just coming to let you know. I have a matter I must attend. A debt to be finally repaid.” Seeing the look on your face he held out a hand to stop your questions. “Nothing to do with Lancelot, I’m afraid. Would you like to join me?”

You shook your head, biting your lip. “Arthur just called. Lance left me something in his will. I’m going to the reading at noon.”

Immediately, sympathy and guilt crossed his face. His hand rose, coming to rest on your shoulder. He gave it a gentle squeeze. “I’m sorry, my dear. Do you want me to come with you?”

You did, but you could see he wanted to go on his excursion. So you smiled, dropping a mask over your face. “It’s fine, Dad. I’ll meet up with you after.”

His hand rose to cup your face, as his eyes sparkled with affection. Once more he leaned in, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Let me know when you’re done, and I’ll tell you where I am. Call me if you need anything.”

“I will,” you replied. “I’ll see you later.”

He dipped his head, and began to walk down the corridor. You turned, eyes following as he started to descend the stairs. However, you couldn’t just let him go without saying anything. “Dad?” You found yourself calling softly.

He turned, gaze expectant and curious.

“I love you,” you finished.

He paused, and then came jogging back up the steps. Before you could react, his arms were around you in a tight hug. You smiled, feeling a few tears spill out once again as you leaned into him. Your head rested on his chest, and you breathed in the comforting smell of him, the one that had always been around since you were three weeks old and your parents died.

“I love you too, peanut,” he breathed. “Be sure to stay safe today.”

It was a testament to his faith in you that he didn’t feel the need to shadow you today. He had finally come to accept you were as much a Kingsman as the rest of them, and could take care of yourself. It had taken some time, but you were glad you had finally reached that place. His belief in you was reassuring.

_You could get through this. You’d be okay._

His arms retracted and you stepped back, using the pad of your thumb to wipe the tears from your eyes. Once more, he gave you a kind smile and then turned away. This time he left, and you didn’t feel the need to call him back. He was Harry Hart. He was going to be fine.

You heard him reach the landing, and the door closed behind him. For a few moments you just stood there, lost in the quiet of the house. Shaking your head to rid yourself of painful thoughts and memories, you headed downstairs to make some breakfast. It had seemed like it was a good idea until the food was ready in-front of you, and you found that you had no appetite to eat it. Even more unnatural was that you didn’t even feel capable of stomaching the usual morning cup of tea.

After trying to force down a few bites of toast, you gave up. Cleaning off your plate and washing it in the sink, you decided that a shower was the best course of action. Hopefully the hot water would do something to make you feel better. Even if it didn’t, all the crying had made you feel a bit icky, so washing would be good anyhow.

The hot water poured over you, and you squeezed your eyes closed. You stayed in there until the water ran cold. Goosebumps broke out on your skin, and you only finally moved when you began to lightly shake. The towel was coarse on your skin as you scrubbed it harder than neccessary, until it felt raw and sore.

Picking an outfit was even harder than trying to eat breakfast. Time ticked by as you simply stood before your closet in a daze. _You were trying to find something to wear to Lance’s will reading. Lance’s. Christ._ In the end you put on one of your better Kingsman suits. Lance would want you to make the effort. Your face stayed devoid of make-up, knowing that there was a good chance you’d ruin it by crying.

Grief, you had noted, was something that came in waves. Like the tide. Some moments you cried so hard you felt like you were suffocating. Others you were enveloped by an eerie calm. But the deep, aching pain in your chest never quite went away.

By the time you managed to get yourself moving it was 11:30. You’d spent a lot of time just standing and staring. The car was waiting for you outside, so you simply slid in and didn’t speak. The driver knew where you were headed, probably having been sent by Arthur. You rested your head against the window as it wound through the busy streets of London, not really looking but with your eyes open all the same.  
It didn’t take long for you to arrive at the shop. You muttered your thanks to the driver, and slid out. Slamming the door behind you, you took a deep breath as you stared at the building in-front of you. _Come on. You can do this._ Squaring your shoulders, you walked up the steps. The bell rang as you entered, and the desk clerk glanced up. He nodded at you, and you returned the gesture.

“Dining room,” he simply said.

“Thank you.”

A few minutes later, you stood outside the door. It was closed, but you could hear the soft murmur of voices from inside. _I can’t believe this is happening._ Sighing and shaking your head sadly, you raised a closed fist to knock on the door. For a moment, there was silence as the talking ceased.

“Come in,” Arthur called.

You pushed down the handle and stepped inside, gaze immediately falling on the occupants. Arthur sat in his usual seat at the head of the long table, while Laura took Harry’s usual seat right beside him. Clive also sat beside her, his hand comfortingly on her arm. You nodded at them, suddenly fearful that they would somehow blame you for this. You had been the messenger, after all.

However, Laura simply smiled through her tears at you. Her face was pale, blotchy from crying. You nodded back, eyes fixing on the ground as you walked into the room and took the seat on Arthur’s other side. For a moment you just let your eyes bore into the wood, gathering yourself.

“The executor will be here shortly,” Arthur told you gently, his hand coming to rest on your arm.

You gave him a nod, and resumed staring dazedly into the wood. A few minutes later footsteps reached your ears, and you raised your attention to the door. A short, squat man came through, carrying a large file. He stopped when he saw you, eyes running over your faces.

“Are all required parties present?” He asked, depositing what he had been carrying at the opposite end of the table.

“Yes,” Arthur answered.

“Then we shall waste no time,” the small man decreed. He sat down, opening up the file before him. Flicking a few pages, he removed a document from its plastic cover. You waited as he fixed his glasses, and then began to read. “This is the final will and testament of James Spencer.” _James Spencer. It was so weird to hear him called by his real name._ “James was meticulous in renewing his will ever few months, so there should be no issue with this. Firstly, to this sister, Laura Baker, nee Spencer, he leaves half his life savings, to the equivalent of three million pounds. According to James, he also leaves her with the burden of knowing that he was the superior sibling.” Laura started to laugh, and then cry. “And that he loves her and his nieces and nephews very much. Clive, James wants to tell you that he think you’re a decent bloke, but that you cut your hair a bit short for your facial shape.”

You had to shake your head, smothering a smile. _Fucking hell, Lance. You know how to make an exit, don’t you?_

“Next, to the Kingsman group.” Beside you, Arthur straightened. “As per tradition, James leaves you the other half of his material wealth, the other three million pounds. He would also like some of it to be used to make a bronze statue of him to be placed in a fountain, but he has said he’ll leave that up to you.”

“Always the joker,” Clive chuckled.

“And lastly, to Miss _____ ______.” You stiffened, temporarily having forgotten that you were here for a reason. “James bequeaths you his car, a matte grey, 2014, Audi R8 Spyder. He hopes that the memories it holds will be comforting in this time.”

You dipped your head, not knowing what to say. James had loved that car, possibly more than anything. It indeed held a lot of memories, moments of late night drives and unforgettable conversations. You felt tears well up in your eyes, and didn’t bother trying to hide yourself brushing them away. _Damn, Lance. You always know how to surprise a girl._

“James also wants me to tell you that if you so much as scratch it he’ll haunt you until the end of time,” the executor added uncomfortably.

You chuckled, shaking your head fondly.

“As one final token, he also wanted me to give Laura and _____ these letters.” The man flicked back a few pages in the folder, pulling out two envelopes. He took a moment to check the labels, before sending them skidding down the table to each of you. “He asks that you both read them when you are ready.”

Across from you, you watched as Laura instantly opened her’s. Scanning the lines, she crumpled into loud, messy sobs. Aware of your hand shaking, you looked down at your own. Your name was scored in blue ink, in Lancelot’s clear script. Tension built, white noise filling your ears. You slammed it down on the table, covering the address with your palm.

You hadn’t realised how loud you were, and everyone jumped in shock. Feeling their eyes on you was the last straw, you could no longer stay.

“Is that all?” You asked hoarsely.

The executor nodded. Before he had even finished the motion, you were hurrying out of the room. He managed to grab your arm as you passed. Gently, he took your hand, opening your fist to place a set of keys in it. “It’s parked outside.”

You swallowed thickly, and then yanked your arm from his grasp. You tore through the shop, needing to get out. Once you barrelled onto the street, you looked desperately for any type of cab. Ignoring the grey car parked by the curb. You didn’t want to deal with that just yet. However, it was lunchtime and no free cars passed you. Minutes ticked by until you gave up.

Grumbling to yourself, you dragged your gaze to the car.

It sat, proud and beautiful. You could almost imagine Lance sitting inside it, his usual smirk adorning his face. Pinching yourself to get rid of the image, you shakily made your way back to the car. Sweaty fingers pressed into the unlock button, and it opened instantly. Taking a deep breath, you tugged on the handle, and slid into the car.

It was weird being in the driver’s seat. You were never usually there. Without looking directly at it, you deposited the letter on the passenger seat next to you. Then you gripped the wheel, staring blankly out the window. A few seconds passed, before you grabbed the letter and shoved it into the glove compartment. When it was gone from view, you exhaled shakily. You felt a bit better now that you didn’t have to look at it.

Picking up your phone, you typed a text to Harry. You needed to see him, to get the reassurance of his presence. Fingers drumming on the steering wheel, you waited for a reply.

The coordinates came within minutes, and a frown wrinkled your brow. Harry was not a snob, but it was strange for him to be in _that_ part of London. He’d stick out like a sore thumb, and as far as you knew he didn’t know anyone there. _So what was he doing there?_ Another text came a few minutes later.

_‘I’m speaking to a young man. Do feel free to come into the bar, but I’d like a few minutes alone with him. We have much to discuss.’_

You replied. _‘Uhm, okay?’_

There was no other response. Shaking your head, you turned on the ignition. Your phone fell from your hands as it snarled to life, you hadn’t expected it to be as loud. Muttering to yourself, you placed your mobile in the cup holder. Turning your attention back to the car, your hands ghosted over the dashboard. Lance had only let you drive this a few times before, always under his intense supervision with his endless instructions. He was one hell of a backseat driver, but as much as you’d told him to shut up, you had never truly minded.

Now he wasn’t here, and you suddenly found yourself a bit at a loss. It took around five minutes before you felt comfortable enough to put on the indicator and pull out of the parking space. You had opted to leave the roof up as you didn’t want people to have a direct line of vision to your terrified face as you crawled through the streets of London.

Eventually, you managed to get moving. It took a while for sure, you were jumpy and scared every time something happened, but eventually you made it to the area. Not wanting to leave a car like this out in the open, you parked it in a secure shopping mall parking lot a bit away, paying the toll attendant a bit extra to keep an eye on it. You promised there was more to come if it was alright when you got back, and then started to walk.

It didn’t take you long to get there, but you were aware of eyes on you the entire time you walked. It was probably your fault. You did indeed stick out like a sore thumb. Even though you could take anyone who squared up against you, keeping your head down seemed like the best idea. The pub you were apparently headed to wasn’t too far, and you reached it swiftly enough.

Opening the door to the pub, the smell of musty air hit you immediately. Unable to help yourself, you wrinkled your nose. Shabby curtains and benches greeted you, and uneven wooden floors groaned under your feet. You stepped in, once again feeling very out of place dressed up in a Kingsman suit. It was dead quiet, only some muffled music playing over rusty speakers lining the corners of the roof.

Since it was absolutely devoid of life, you spotted them immediately. They were the only two in the pub, Harry and a guy you didn’t recognise. Even if there were other people present, they would have stuck out like sore thumbs for being dressed so differently from each other. Like you, Harry was in his formal get up, while the guy was dressed like a someone who would headline Glastonbury.

Noticing the door open, Harry gaze fell on you. You nodded slightly, and he dipped his head almost imperceivably in response. The guy he was with was around your age, you noted with some surprise. You didn’t miss the way that upon seeing you, his eyes trailed down your entire body. He was cute, you’d give him that, but you were never okay with guys openly checking you out. Fighting the urge to roll your eyes, you strode to the barstool and ordered a gin and tonic with a lemon and lime. The bartender looked at you like you’d asked for his firstborn, and then reached into the very back of the shelf to remove a bottle covered in dust.

As he made your drink, you leaned over and rested your elbows on the bar. Over the course of your life, Harry had drilled into you that a lot of things were rude. Examples of such were spitting on the street, not finishing your meals, and forgetting to use ‘please’ and ‘thank you.’ He had also included eavesdropping, but you had never really learned that one, had you? So you listened to his conversation as the bartender passed you your drink and you sipped it down. It was surprisingly good.

The guy Harry was with began to get all riled up, shouting about ivory towers and silver spoons that didn’t make too much sense when taken out of context, but you got the gist. He was calling Harry a snob. Twisting in your seat, you noticed a shadow falling across the floor. Someone was blocking the light from the window on the door, so you turned to see who was coming in. It swung inwards, and a group of man spilled in. If even possible, they were dressed even worse than the first one. When they saw Harry and his companion, outraged and furious expression spilled across their faces.

“Oi!” One at the front of the pack yelled, pointing his finger. “The fuck are you doing here? You takin’ the piss?!”

“Awh shit,” you heard the guy say.

Harry eyed them inquisitively, and then turned back to his new friend. “Some more examples of young men who simply need a silver depository?”

“Nah,” the guy muttered, looking wary and slightly frightened, “they’re exceptions. Come on.”

You waited to move too, aware that things were looking ugly. You didn’t have to be a trained agent to know when someone was looking for a fight, and these guys definitely were. Still, you wouldn't move until Harry did, and he didn’t. So you sat there, trying to assess at what point you should intervene. Harry could certainly take care of himself, but it didn’t mean that you were just going to sit back if things got ugly.

“Nonsense,” your adoptive father simply said calmly. “We haven’t finished our drinks.”

The men moved past you, and you counted six. All stocky, all tough looking. And all very angry. Your grip tightened around the glass, and you felt your heart begin to beat a bit faster. You were itching for a fight, you realised. You were hurting, you were angry, and you really wanted to take it out on someone. These guys would do. Harry caught your eye, and you read his command in his expression. _Stay there._

You scowled, but did as you were told.

“After you nicked his fuckin’ car, Dean says you’re fair game,” one said, and you now knew they weren’t talking to Harry. “He don’t give a shit what your mum says.”

“Uh, listen boys,” Harry started, and you almost laughed at how chill he was being. “I’ve had a rather emotional day, so whatever your beef with Eggsy is, and I’m sure it’s well founded, I’d appreciate it enormously if you could just leave us in peace until I finish this lovely pint of Guinness.”

You snorted loudly, and one of them at the back turned to look at you. Quickly, you faked a coughing fit. He eyed you suspiciously, but turned back to the others. When his back was turned, you glared daggers at him.

“You should get out of the way, grandad, or you’ll get hurt ‘n’ all,” the first warned, so quietly that you almost couldn’t hear him.

Your shoulders tensed, grip on the glass tightening as you waited for a response.

“He ain’t joking, you should go,” the guy you’d heard Harry call ‘Eggsy’ said softly.

Eyes flickering over the group, you waited to see how Harry would react. He nodded, still as calm as anything, and excused himself from the booth. You didn’t move, watching him as you walked towards the door with him umbrella in hand. While the gang of assholes may have thought they’d scared him off, you knew different.

“If you’re looking for a rent boy, they’re on the corner of Smith street,” the short man called after him.

Harry continued walking, and you watched as they all turned back to Eggsy. Not about to just sit there and let someone get hurt, you placed the glass of gin and tonic back on the countertop in-front of you, preparing yourself to intervene. And then you heard the door latches begin to click shut. Without turning around, you just stared at the shelves behind the bar and felt a smirk beginning to grow over your face.

“Manners maketh man,” the familiar words reached your ears.

Pushing yourself around on the swivel stool, you saw Harry standing in-front of the door, back to the rest of the pub and men in it. His head turned slightly, obviously noting your movement. He held out a hand, motioning for you not to get involved. Your bloodlust was dying down slightly, being replaced by excitement. If you couldn’t fight, you’d still enjoy the show.

“Do you know what that means?” Harry asked snarkily as the men crowded behind him. None answered. “No? Then let me teach you a lesson.”

Without warning, his umbrella hooked around a glass and sent it flying back into the forehead of the leader. It shattered, raining brown beer. The man hit the ground with a loud thud, and his friends simply stood there in shock. Quietly, you chuckled.

“Are we going to stand around here all day?” Harry asked as he stalked towards them. “Or are we going to fight?”

There was a moment of confusion, before the first man moved. The one in the red sweater punched, but Harry dodged as his fist sailed past, and so his hand collided with his friend's face. A cloud of blood spurted into the air, along with a tooth. _Ew._ And then all hell broke loose. You watched as Harry fought, using his umbrella to deliver devastating blows, but also using their own moves against each other. It was a bloodbath of skill and anger that had been simmering inside him, barely concealed since Lancelot’s death.

He downed one man with a brutal lash to the face, using another as shield when someone else came at him with a knife. There was the sound of metal on flesh, and someone screamed. Not Harry, so you didn’t care. Cries of pain filled the air as Harry fended off every single one of them, inflicting some serious injuries without even breaking a sweat.

Catching your eye as he slammed one man’s head off the side of the coffee table, he threw you a quick wink. Despite everything going on, you grinned back at him.

The bald guy with the knife came at him again, but Harry deflected the swipe, using him to knock a blade from the larger one’s hand and sent him flying into the bar. He landed right beside you, glass shattering from bottles he slammed into them. You leapt back, irritation simmering to the surface. He reached for a bottle, spinning around to throw it at Harry. Faster than he could move, your elbow shot out and into his face, knocking him back. His hand shot up, trying to grab hold of you, but Harry fired an electrical restraint at him. It wrapped around his wrist, tying him to the bar.

It seemed easy from there. Harry spun and twisted, sending men crashing into each other, furniture, and walls.

A gleam of metal caught your eye, and the ringleader pulled a gun from the waistband of his jeans and scrambled to his feet. Harry threw himself into a crouch, umbrella opening to shield him from the gunfire. You could no longer sit still and watch. Lunging off the barstool, your left foot shot high into the air. It collided with his hand with a loud crunch, breaking his trigger finger with ease and sending the gun flying from his grip. He howled in pain, turning towards you. Before he could react, you spun, other foot rising off the air to launch a spinning kick into his face. The force of the blow sent him away, twirling onto the ground. You watched him from behind raised fists, ready to follow through. However, he did not move.

Movement from the corner of your eye had your head snapping towards Harry. His own attention was on the bartender, who was dialling into a phone. Before you could react, Harry’s amnesia dart shot from his watch and embedded itself in the man’s neck. You breathed a sigh of relief as he slumped down onto the counter.

“You know, I could have handled that myself,” Harry said, sounding slightly irritated.

You just shrugged, straightening your jacket. Feeling thirsty again, you returned to the counter and picking up your gin. The guy, Eggsy, just stared at you both. His jaw was slack, eyes as big as saucers. It figured. People usually had that reaction to seeing Kingsman agents in action.

Floorboards creaked as Harry strolled back towards him. He sat down heavily in the booth. Across from him, the guy in the cap shifted nervously. Harry didn’t speak, and in one smooth motion he downed the rest of the Guinness that he had been so intent on finishing. Sneaking a look, you made sure his attention wasn’t on you before you subtly reached over the bar. The bartender had given you a scabby amount of drink, so you decided to remedy that yourself. But Harry wasn’t big on what he saw as stealing, so you wanted to avoid a lecture if possible. Plus, you’d had a hell of a fucking day. If you wanted an extra bit of alcohol, then you’d damn well take it. You’d lost your best friend yesterday, after all.

“Sorry about that,” you heard Harry say casually. “Needed to let off a little steam. Heard yesterday a friend of mine had died… He knew your father too, actually.”

You straightened, trying not to immediately snap your head over. _Lance and Harry knew this guy’s dad? Who the hell was he?_

“Now I do apologise, Eggsy,” Harry got to his feet. “We shouldn’t have done this in-front of you.”

He held his watch towards Eggsy, reading to shoot. You nodded to yourself. _Good. No one could know what really happened here_. Just as expected, as they always did, Eggsy began to beg.

“No please, I won’t say nothin’. I swear. If there’s one thing I can do it’s keep my mouth shut.”

_Yeah, whatever. That’s never worked before. There’s no point in begging, mate._

“You won’t tell a soul?” Harry unexpectedly pressed, causing you to almost choke on your drink.

You stared at him incredulously. _He couldn’t be serious?_ It broke every protocol there was to let this guy remember.

“Ask the feds, I’ve never grassed anyone up,” Eggsy seemed earnest, and you almost believed him.

 _Go on Harry. Fire._ Your eyes bore into your adoptive father’s face, urging him to just get it done.

“Is that a promise?” Harry continued, ignoring your aghast face over by the bar.

“On my life.”

For a long moment, Harry just stared at him. You clutched your drink, hardly able to comprehend what was happening. You only grew more shocked when Harry slid his sleeve back down over his wrist.

“Much appreciated, Eggsy.”

“What?” You finally exclaimed, but both men ignored you.

“You’re right about the snobs,” Harry continued, “but there too, there are exceptions.”

Picking up his umbrella, Harry turned to face the gobsmacked young man once more. His eyes flicking to you, he leaned forward and patted Eggsy affectionately on the shoulder. Your eyes narrowed in on the motion, brow arching. When he withdrew his arm, you could see the tiny speck of a tracer placed on the young man’s back.

“Best of luck with everything,” Harry continued, and turned on his heel.

He began to walk out of the pub, and you took that as your cue to hop off the barstool and follow him. When you reached the door, you hesitated for a moment. Turning back, you caught the guy, Eggsy’s eyes. He stared at you in disbelief. Smirking slightly, you bent over slightly, arms spreading in a sarcastic bow, before following your father out onto the street.

Jogging to catch up, you fell into step beside him when you reached his side. He looked at you out of the corner of his eye, smiling gently. “How are you doing, peanut?”

“Is it fucked up of me to say a bit better after that?”

“Slightly, but I feel the same.”

“Maybe that’s what I need,” you laughed slightly, “Arthur to send me on a mission where I can brawl until I feel better again.”

“I somehow don’t think he’ll agree. And you _are_ meant to be training the new recruits as of this evening. Speaking of, what did you think?”

You scrunched up your face in confusion. “Think? Of what?”

“Of Eggsy.”

“What do you… Wait. _Him?_ No way!” You shook your head in disbelief.

Harry arched a brow. “You’re spending entirely too much time around Arthur. I thought I raised you not to be elitist.”

“I’m not being elitist! I just don’t think he’s right for it.”

“Well, if all goes as plan, you’ll be seeing him again this evening at the induction.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're interested in seeing more, do let me know. Otherwise my motivation may wither up like a plant that has not been watered. Not to be dramatic, or anything...


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! I decided to pop up chapter three to give you more of an interaction between Bedivere and Eggsy. Though to be fair, it's not a pleasant interaction. But I did warn you about that!

“You need to be professional,” Harry warned him. “Your instructor is… Well, she’s not going to let you off easy.”

“I can handle it,” Eggsy shrugged, trying to seem unperturbed, even though he was almost buzzing with excitement.

In less than a day, his entire world had gone fucking mental. He’d learned that his dad was in with secret agents, or might have been one of them or some shit, which is pretty fuckin’ slick. He’d met Harry, and though he’d never fuckin’ tell him he’s probably the coolest bloke Eggsy had ever met in his life. Even if he did dress like a twat and talk like a pompous ass.

Now he was down in some bunker far from London, being giving the opportunity to get in on this. To fuckin’ do something with his life, something wicked. And by God, he wasn’t gonna turn it down.

Eggsy followed Harry Hart through the maze of corridors, barely able to believe everything he was seeing. He was half convinced that he’d wake up any second and find out it had all been a dream or some shit like that.

The man led him through the labyrinth, walking with brisk steps. Eggsy almost had to half-jog to keep up with him. He was barely listening and Harry continued his explanations of what various rooms were, he was too busy staring around himself. They turned another bend, and Eggsy didn’t even notice the other figure a few metres in-front of him.

“Galahad,” a man’s voice interrupted his thoughts.

Eggsy looked up to see a tall, bald man in a dark sweater standing by the wall of the corridor. The man looked at him curiously.

“My codename,” Harry supplied, seeing Eggsy’s confused frown.

“Late again, sir,” the man spoke, though he didn’t seem mad in any way.

Eggsy noted a Scottish accent.

“Is she in there?” Harry asked, nodding towards a door.

“No. She should be along shortly. So best head in now.”

“Alright,” Harry nodded, before turning to Eggsy. He shot him a kind, supportive smile. “Good luck.”

Eggsy looked at him, slightly confused. _Was he just been left here?_

“Go on in,” Merlin gestured towards the door.

Looking between the two men, Eggsy took an uncertain step forward. The door in-front of him opened smoothly, emitting a soft hiss of air. Harry nodded his reassurance, so Eggsy squared his shoulders and entered the room. He wasn’t entirely sure what to expect, despite all that Harry had told him on the way over.

Beds lined the sides of the room, which was brightly lit and immaculately clean. A group of people stood before him, in the middle of the room. All were young and well dressed. He knew he fuckin’ stood out like a sore thumb. Still, he didn’t let himself falter. If anything, he put on some swagger as he walked, trying to appear unintimidated and unbothered. One guy at the front, an arrogant looking arse with dark curly hair opened his mouth like he was going to say something.

“Fall in,” a man called behind him, and he looked over his shoulder to see the Scottish man following him into the room.

He did as he was told, joining everyone else in facing the bald man. He stood beside a girl. She was small and pretty, blonde haired tied back in a ponytail. He tried to make eye contact, she seemed a bit more approachable than the others, but the man spoke again, demanding everyone’s attention.

“My name is Merlin,” he said calmly. His voice was loud and decisive. “You are about to embark upon what is probably the most dangerous job interview in the world.”

Behind him, the door opened once more. A figure entered, posture straight and dignified. Boots thudded strongly on the ground. Eggsy’s eyes widened in shock as he saw you. _The girl from the pub? Yeah, you’d been with Harry, but he hadn’t guessed you were a Kingsman agent too._ Looking at you now, he should have. It was written all over you, from the glasses, to the expensive-looking fitted suit, right down the shining boots.  

Your eyes swept over them all, maybe lingering on him for a second longer, before turning to Merlin. The Scottish man nodded at you as you approached, and you halted beside him.

“This,” he gestured towards you, “is Agent Bedivere. We are both to oversee your training. While I will deal with organisation, scoring and logistics, it will be her who will instruct you through most of your day to day training activities. You should be honoured. She’s one of our best, the first female Kingsman agent, and she’ll whip even the lousiest of you into something worthwhile.”

Eggsy didn’t miss the affectionate look you exchanged with Merlin at his words. You two were obviously friends. He also didn’t miss the way that the kind expression faded when you turned back to them. You looked at them with something akin to contempt, and he got the feeling you didn’t really want to be here, doing any of this.

But a mask dropped over your features, obscuring any negative feelings you may have for them. Clasping your hands behind your back, you took a step forward to address them with a tight lipped smile. “Hello, recruits. Merlin’s correct. I’m to be your instructor for the foreseeable future. I just want to warn you all… You’re striving to fill a very long shadow. Don’t expect me to go easy on you.”

_Christ._

You moved back, nodding to Merlin to continue. Merlin straightened, turning his attention back to the group.

“One of you, and only one of you, will become the next Lancelot.” He bent down, picking something up from the nearby bed. “Can anybody tell me what this is?”

Around Eggsy, everyone raised their hands. He chewed his lip as he looked at them, feeling worried already. It seemed like everyone had a head start on him in this fucking world. He only felt worse when he caught you eyeing him with an arched brow, obviously judging him for his lack of knowledge.

“Yes,” Merlin pointed to the guy in the middle.

“Bodybag, sir,” he answered.

“Correct. Charlie, isn’t it?”

“Yes sir.”

“Good. In a moment, you will each collect a bodybag. You will right your name on that bag. You will the details of your next of kin on that bag. This represents your acknowledgement of the risks you’re about to face, as well as your agreement  to strict confidentiality. Which incidentally if you break, will result in you and your next of kin being in that bag.” Merlin paused for a moment, letting the words sink in.

“Is that understood?” You piped up, your voice firm. You eyed them challengingly, hand going to rest on the holster on your belt.

Eggsy looked around disbelievingly, trying to see if anyone else found this as fucking insane as he did. They all just stared straight ahead, each nodding their agreement. Not knowing what else to do, he bobbed his head up and down with them. He didn’t need to draw any more attention to himself than his clothes already did.

“Excellent,” Merlin responded.

“Fall out,” you ordered.

Both you and the Scottish man turned, heading towards the door. Eggsy could hear you talking among yourselves as you did. Strain as he might, he couldn’t make out what exactly you were saying. Feeling like he was kind of in a daze, Eggsy headed to the bed nearest to him. He couldn’t stop himself from glancing around, drinking everything on. Obviously noting his discomfort, the blonde girl turned towards him and extended a hand. She’d chosen the bed next to him.

“Roxanne,” she said. “But you can call me ‘Roxy.’”

He took it, shaking it firmly. “I’m Eggsy.”

“Eggy?” She questioned, looking confused.

She wasn’t making fun of him, so he felt amused instead of ticked off. “Nah, Eggsy.”

“Eggy,” someone else said behind him. They spoke the word like they had a bad taste in their mouth. Twisting around, he found the guy from earlier, Charlie, standing in-front of him. He looked at Eggsy with half amusement, half distaste. “And where did they dig you up?”

“You know we’re not allowed to discuss who proposed us,” Roxy shot back, staring at him coolly.

“No need to bite his head off,” a blond guy cut in as he crossed the room. “Charlie was only trying to make conversation.” He extended a meaty hand towards Eggsy. “Digby.” _Fuckin’ ‘ell. How was that not as ridiculous as ‘Eggsy’ to these people? Oh yeah, because they were stuck up twats._ “And this is Rufus.” He nodded to another brown haired bloke. “Rufus, _Eggy._ ”

Eggsy kinda wanted to ask had they gotten their names out of fucking Pride and Prejudice or some shit, but caught Roxy’s warning look to let it be.

“So, Eggy,” Rufus continued. “Are you Oxford or Cambridge?”

“Neither,” he replied.

“Saint Andrews?” Charlie probed.

“Darram?” Digby shot in.

It was obvious they all thought they were fucking hilarious.

“No, I think we may have met,” Rufus interrupted. “Did you serve me at a McDonalds in Winchester service station?”

Before Eggsy could respond, a disbelieving, harsh laugh cut in. “I’m sorry, did we give you permission to be arseholes?”

Heads snapping to the side, all their gazes landed on you. You were leaning against the wall by the door, a sneer curling your lips upwards. Eggsy thought you were quite pretty, even if you did look at them like they were garbage. But it was all of them who you seemed to brush off as if they were inadequate, not just him. Maybe you were a dick, but you weren’t a grade A wanker like these blokes.

“No ma’am, sorry.” Charlie dipped his head.

“Get back to your bags, and next time you want to make fun of someone for how they dress, you should really take off those fucking disgusting ties first,” you gestured dismissively, flicking your fingers towards Rufus and Digby. “You’re not in Hogwarts, Barker," you continued, staring at Digby and his yellow and red tie. “Take your Hufflepuff insignia.”

“These are Gryffindor colours,” Digby said quietly, but he did as asked. His face was red.

Eggsy snorted in amusement, and your glare fell on him. He stopped himself almost instantly. You looked like you’d have a go at him next if he said anything. There was no other noise but the shuffling of clothes as the other three returned to their beds. Eggsy turned back to his own, catching Roxy’s eye as he did. He made a face. _She’s a piece of work, isn’t she?_

Roxy smothered a giggle, before flicking her eyes to the other guys. “Ignore them.”

 

***

  


“Would you like to do the honours?” Merlin asked, handing you a cup of coffee.

You were sitting in a chair in-front of the bench in the observation room, watching the sleeping recruits from the double windows. Taking the coffee with a thankful smile, you nodded somewhat eagerly. “Sure. What button?”

He pointed towards the one sitting by your hand. You grinned, arm raising. As your fingers hovered over it, you looked up into Merlin’s face once more. “Should I do it now?”

He checked his watch briefly, taking a small sip of his own coffee as he did. After a moment he shrugged. “Now’s as good a time as any.”

Chuckling, you pressed down on the button, watching the room carefully as you did. Down on the floor, a number of panels slid silently open. The soft rushing of water filled the air, making it through the glass in-front of you. Sitting back and sipping the drink Merlin had got you, you stoically kept your eyes on the rising water levels. None of the recruits had seemed to notice yet, all sleeping soundly.

“Do you think any of them have what it takes?” You asked softly.

You could feel Merlin’s gaze turn to you, but didn’t twist to meet it. Instead you just kept your attention on the room beyond. After a few seconds, Merlin gave up trying to make eye contact. You knew he was following your line of vision, out towards the slumbering candidates beyond.

“I think a few show potential,” he told you softly. “It’s a bit early to say for sure.”

You nodded emotionlessly, taking another bit of coffee into your mouth. It burned your tongue, but you didn’t really care. “I don’t think any of them will measure up.”

Instead of getting irritated like anyone else would, Merlin’s hand simply came to rest comfortingly on your shoulder. He chuckled, and you felt the vibrations running down his arm.

“I think you may be a wee bit biased there, lass,” he told you gently.

Despite yourself, you smiled. “You’re probably right.” The water rose to the beds, seeping over the mattresses. “They’re waking up,” you intoned, knowing the commentary was somewhat unneeded as he watched the same scene that you did.

All the prospects seemed to wake up at once, lurching upright. You could hear panicked shouts as the water rose quicker than before, shooting rapidly towards the ceiling. Fear was written all over their faces, and no matter how much you tried to ignore it, you felt some sympathy for them. Needing to distract yourself, you spoke once again to Merlin.

“Which one is our placebo?”

He took a second to look, and then pointed to a girl past the others, by the door of the room. “Nicole. She has a breathing kit on her.”

“No one has noticed she’s not following,” you pointed out as the others headed towards the showers. Except for the one, Eggsy, who instead started to try the door. You watched to see if he’d taken note of Nicole near to it, but it didn’t seem he had.

“Yes,” Merlin agreed. “They’ll all fail on that. Look at Charlie and Roxy, they’ve had the others put the shower hoses in the toilet u-bend.” He marked his clipboard.

“It would be those two, wouldn’t it,” you reasoned.

“What do you mean by that?”

“He’s a prick who’s had a helping hand all of his life, and probably in this too, and she seems like a know-it-all.”

“So kinda like you were, then?”

“Shut up.”

Your gaze returned to Eggsy, yanking at the door. Even through the distortion caused by the water you could see the muscles in his arms taunt and straining. He tugged, but it came to no avail. Just as you knew it would. Seeming to realise it was futile, Eggsy gave up, turning to swim back towards the others. He appeared to be going strong, but you knew soon enough he would seriously start needing oxygen.

Reaching the others, he paused. No one moved, all just staring at him. They did not offer him a breath from their tube. Merlin made another mark on his paper. Eggsy scrunched his face in concentration, and swam towards you, towards the glass. He didn’t see Roxy, who had been in the middle of taking a deep breath when he came over, reach to offer him her tube.

He swam until he was right in front of you, where he grabbed the top of the sink, just below the window, in order to anchor himself in place. Hand forming a fist, he punched the glass as hard as he could. The movements were slowed by the water, but they still had enough force. On his third hit the glass cracked.

You jumped slightly as Merlin patted you on the shoulder, motioning for you to get up and follow him away from the glass. Nodding, you pushed yourself away from the desk and crossed to the side of the room. Just as you turned back around the sound of shattering glass filled the air.

A tidal wave of water swept into the room, carrying Eggsy and the other recruits in with it. They tumbled, one over the other, unable to fight against the force of the water. They were only stopped as they collided with the wall and each other, and lay spluttering on the ground.

Beside you, Merlin checked his watch and made another mark on his paper. The sound of coughing filled the air, and you felt a little bad for them. You remembered this challenge very well, and the shock of waking up to a flooding room was not fun. Still, you kept a cool mask over your face and walked forward.

“Congratulations on completing your first task,” Merlin announced smoothly. Before you, the recruits struggled up into a sitting position, wiping water away from their faces and trying to rearrange the damp clothes clinging to their bodies. “Charlie, Roxy, well done,” Merlin continued. "For those of you who are still confused, if you can get a breathing tube around a u-bend of a toilet, you have an unlimited air supply. Simple physics worth remembering. Eggsy, well done for spotting that was a two way mirror.”

“Probably seen enough of them,” Charlie commented breathlessly.

“Shut the fuck up,” you retorted savagely.

“Yeah, you can all wipe those smirks off your faces,” Merlin said. “Because as far as I’m concerned every single one of you has failed. You all forgot the most important thing.”

“Teamwork,” you interjected, and then gestured back out to the bedroom area.

Rising to their feet, the recruits followed your motion. You watched as they walked back to the shattered window, gazing into the rapidly draining room beyond. Nicole lay on a table, seemingly lifeless. She was convincing, you had to give her that. Before you, you saw shock and horror on the recruits’ faces. Even Charlie Hesketh looked unnerved and upset.

After you felt you had let them gawk for a sufficient amount, you took out your phone and dialled a number. It was answered on the second ring.

“There’s a body to collect. You know what to do,” you said as calmly as you could.

It didn’t take long for two members of staff to arrive with a gurney. You gestured towards the bed Nicole had stayed in, they picked up the body bag she had written her name on. Unzipping it, they carefully took hold of her limbs and placed her inside. Roxy heaved, like she was going to be sick. Eggsy put his arm around her.

The staff members placed the bag back on the trolley, nodded to you, and then quietly exited the room. A few minutes later they returned, this time with a trolley full of sleeping bags.

“Go on,” you told the prospects. “They’re waterproof, so you can still sleep on the mattress. Unless you prefer soaking sheets.”

“Are you serious?” Another boy, Hugo, asked. “A girl just died in there?!”

You shrugged. “Where else are you going to sleep?”

They all looked at you as if you had three heads. You could understand it, while you knew Nicole was actually fine, they all thought she was dead. Back on your induction day, you wouldn’t have wanted to sleep in a room someone had died in. But that was before. You didn’t think it would stop you from sleeping now. Death seemed more natural now than it did back then. Over the past year you’d delivered it often enough.

Still, in some ways it was unnatural. Like in how it had taken Lancelot.

The thought brought another pang back to you, and you swallowed. Once again, you felt your mood starting to sour even further. None of these recruits could compare to him. None of them. No one would ever be that good.

“Go,” you growled. “I’m not going to repeat myself again.”

They did as asked, shooting you the occasional dirty or disbelieving look. It was obvious they all thought you were a massive bitch. You couldn’t care. Everything pissed you off. The whole world made you angry. Swallowing thickly, you looked at Merlin.

“I’m going to bed,” you told him.

He examined you for a moment, concern in his eyes. Then he nodded. “Aye. Get some rest. I’ll take care o’ things on this end.”

Twisting back, you faced the recruits. Eyes roving over them, you took in their pale appearances. They all regarded you sourly. “Sleep well,” you told them in a mocking tone, before exiting the room.

Returning to your room, you threw yourself across your bed. You wished Morgie was here. It had been hard to drop her off at the doggie hotel yesterday, but you knew it was for the best. You didn’t have the time to spend with her, and Arthur didn’t want people getting the hint that the final challenge wasn’t exactly what it seemed. Sighing, you stripped off your clothes, set your alarm, and tried to sleep. Surprisingly, you did.

 ***

_“You don’t have to be so harsh on them, you know,” he chuckled, watching you from the armchair across your bedroom, by the door. He looked the same, except his usual jokey demeanor was now serious. Though his face was mostly in shadow, you could make out those achingly familiar features._

_“I’m not being harsh,” you argued. “They all need to toughen up.”_

_“May I remind you that you were somewhat eased into this?”_

_You scowled, sitting upright and leaning against the headboard. “I know they took it slightly easier on me. I never asked them to.”_

_“I know you’re hurting, love.”_

_“I just… I want you to come back.”_

_“I can’t. You know that.”_

_“We haven’t even recovered your body. We can’t find it.”_

_“I know.”_

_“I’m so angry, Lance. All the time.” You wiped a tear away from your eyes, leaning your head back and staring at his figure. “I miss you so fucking much.”_

_“Why don’t you read my letter?”_

_Your eyes were drawn to the edge of the envelope poking out from a stack of books. The mere sight of it made you feel sick, so you tore your gaze away._

_“I’m not ready.”_

_“Well, whenever you are, then.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end may have seemed sappy, but it's based on a personal experience. I had someone who I was close to died a few years ago. The night of their death, I dreamed that they came into my room, smile and waved, and then left. I still don't know if it was a dream or something else. I am not a religious person at all, but I still don't fully know what to make of it. It was the most real dream I ever had, and if I'm honest I'd like to think it was that person coming to say goodbye, and to tell me that they were okay. Or maybe grief manifested it. All I know is it happened, so I based the end on that. Take it as what you will, a supernatural visit or a dream. In Bedivere's case, I angle it more as a dream. But it's up to you.
> 
> Lemme know your thoughts!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A slightly longer chapter bc ya girl is going on holiday and then starting her new job almost immediately on return, so I don't know when the next update is. That being said, I already have most of the next chapter written. But we'll see. There are other stories that also need my attention! 
> 
> I hope everyone is doing good!

The next morning Eggsy was woken up by a cold jet of water to the face. He thrashed in the bed, sheets tangling in his legs as he yelled in panic and fear. Once more he imagined the room filling with water, the burning in his lungs as he held his breath. When he was upright he stopped, breathing heavily. There was no water. His hand went up to touch his chest, where water droplets fell from his chin.

_But why was his face wet?_

In-front of him, you lowered the water gun you were holding. It was a super soaker, a large green and yellow one. You weren’t smiling, but he thought he gathered a hint of amusement on your face. A quick glance around the room showed him the others were slightly damp too, and water ran down the walls. You’d obviously sprayed the gun in an arc.

“Bit of a sadistic fuck, aren’t ya?” He snapped.

You arched a brow, tilting your head slightly to the side. There was no expression on your features, but your eyes had gone cold.

“What was that?” You asked. Your voice was quiet, but there was an edge of steel to it. Eggsy felt himself deflate slightly. He shouldn’t have spoken like that. Not to his training instructor.

“Nothin’,” he found himself saying, hanging his head slightly.

You continued to stare at im for another long few moments, before nodding to yourself and turning away. Striding back into the centre of the room, you spread your arms at your side. The water gun dangled limply in your grip.

“Okay, prospects. Currently it is 0700 hours. You will not get such a sleep in again, the only reason you have one now being the training exercise of last night. Right now you have fifteen minutes in which you will make your beds, use the facilities and get dressed. After this we will head outside. You will run laps. Usually five, but I’m adding an additional two for all the grumbling this morning. If there is more, I will keep adding to this. Is that understood?” You eyed each of them individually, before resuming. “If you finish laps early we will do additional exercises until it reaches 0730, when we will return inside and you’ll have breakfast. You have half an hour to eat, and a further fifteen minutes to shower and change. Merlin will then take you for your theory classes, at 1400 hours I will once again take you for combat training. Understood?

Everyone agreed, and you nodded, seemingly satisfied with the response. Lifting your arm, you examined the watch on your sleeve. “Fifteen minutes,” you reminded, pressing a small button on the side, “starting now. Get to it.” With that, you swept out of the room, brightly coloured super soaker in hand.

Eggsy turned to Roxy, shaking his head. “She’s a right charmer.”

“She’s not so bad,” the girl responded, obviously not wanting to speak ill of her superior.

“She’s not bad looking either,” Digby laughed crudely from across the room. “Needs to smile a bit more, though.”

“She’s stuck teaching the likes of you, why would she?” Roxy retorted.

Rufus and Charlie began to howl at that, while Digby scowled. The tips of his ears turned slightly red with embarrassment. Eggsy tried to ignore them, and went about getting ready. He’d been in the marines, so he had had practise following schedules. The others did not seem as well disciplined, and he noticed with satisfaction that he was ready and waiting by the door first.

That was until Charlie shoved in-front of him.

“Hey,” Eggsy said angrily, rounding on the taller guy.

Charlie’s face lit up as he received a reaction. He took a moment, like he was savouring what he was going to say. Eggsy just knew it was gonna be something that would make him want to punch him in his smug looking face.

“Sorry Eggy, but your kind should be holding the door, not being the first through it.”

And there it was.

Eggsy was just about to react, to launch himself at Charlie, when a cold voice rang out. “How dare you.”

Charlie’s face blanched, and he turned slowly. In that moment, Eggsy realised the door had never been completely shut. Now it was opened, with you standing firmly on the threshold. Your eyes were blazing, and you looked angrier than even Eggsy felt.

“What makes you think you can fucking talk to people like that?” You demanded, hands on your hips. “Stuck up posh twat thinking he’s all that? Well, right now you aren’t shit as far as I’m concerned. Hold the fucking door for everyone else, you come last right now.”

With that, you jerked your thumb over your shoulders, turning on your heels and striding away. Eggsy smirked at Charlie, following you as you left the room. Your back was ramrod straight, posture stiff and tense. Kicking into a jog, he caught up with you.

“Hey, Bedivere, innit? I just wanted to say thank you for-”

“Did I give you permission to speak?” You snapped, whirling back around on him.

He stopped, confused and caught of guard. “What, no? I just thought…”

“Well, you thought wrong,” you sneered, before facing away from him again and continuing to walk forward.

Deflating slightly, Eggsy slowed down. Roxy fell into step beside him, laying a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. He looked at her, aware that he was red with embarrassment. His first impression had been accurate, it seemed.

Agent Bedivere was a fucking bitch.

You brought them outside, and started them off with laps. An obstacle course had been rigged, and that was the next challenge. Within half an hour they were all sweating profusely, annoyance levels high as you stood at the side and shouted abuse at them for not moving fast enough.

 

***

 

You were almost sick to the stomach with worry. This morning Harry had knocked on your door, telling you he was off to pay a visit to Professor James Arnold, the man who Lancelot had identified as a kidnap victim. The one he had died trying to save.

You had begged him not to go, and when that failed you pleaded with him to let you accompany him. It was at that moment that Arthur had happened to walk past, and bot men had refused you. After hugging Harry goodbye, you had stood there and watched him leave. Arthur’s hand had rested comfortably on your shoulder, and you were so mad that you felt like shrugging it off and storming away. But you couldn’t.

And so you were stuck here, training the fucking recruits to replace Lancelot, while Harry was in the field on his own. It made your blood boil, and tears prick your eyes.

The prospects were sluggish, still half asleep from their draining night beforehand. Maybe if you were in a better mood you could have understood, could have gone easier on them, but now you found them annoying. They were the real reason you had to stay here.

Your comms unit was in your ear, and you were dressed for business in a combat jumpsuit, jet black with bullet proof lining. Just in case Harry needed some last minute back up.

You were in the middle of watching Rufus clumsily jump over a hurdle, when a hand tapped you on the shoulder. Jumping slightly, you looked back to see Merlin. His face was grim, forehead creased in a worried line.

Your stomach dropped.

Behind him, there was a loud mechanical creak as part of the mansion’s roof receded, opening up above the air hanger. Everyone stopped, staring as whirring filled the air. A helicopter rose out of the depths, and you could vaguely hear distant shouts over the noise.

You dragged your gaze back to Merlin, eyes wide and panicked as the helicopter began to fly towards you. The wind buffeted into you, blowing your hair back away from your face.

“Go,” Merlin said.

You ran.

Feet pelting over the ground, you took off towards the low flying helicopter. You could see Tristan up above, peering out of the interior. He ducked back in, and next thing a rope ladder fell. It dragged towards you quickly, gaining ground fast. Throwing yourself forward, your hands wrapped around it and you stepped on, just as the chopper rose up into the air.

Ignoring the ever increasing drop below you, you started to climb up the ladder. It swung sickeningly in the air, but you had done this countless times before. Clamping down on your fear, you stopped your muscles from seizing up, and continued to climb. When you got close enough, a hand reached out for you. You took it, and Tristan pulled you inside.

You half-fell onto him, gasping for breath. Pushing yourself away, you staggered to your feet. Tristan rose also, and you surged forward to grasp him by the jacket.

“What happened?” Your voice was cracked, filled with panic and fear.

Gripping your elbow, he forced you to sit. “He’s okay. He’s alright, _____. There was an explosion. Arnold’s dead, but Harry is in the hospital. They say he’s unconscious right now. We’re going to get him.”

_He was alive. Thank God, he was alive._

Slumping back, you let that momentary relief sink in. Your hand covered your face was you tried to wrestle back tears. Tristan’s hand stroked through your hair, comforting you. In-front, the pilot pretended not to notice.

“_____. I need you to focus here. We have to get to him before they do.”

Your hand dropped. “Who’s they?”

“We still don’t know,” he grimaced. “Whoever blew up Arnold. Whoever killed Lance. There could be a fight on our hands.”

Swallowing thickly, you square your shoulders. Gathering up all the pain and rage you felt inside, you channeled it. Focusing on something. Because there was something stronger than the jumbled mess inside you. It was love for your adoptive father, the devotion of someone willing to do anything necessary to make sure the one they cared about was safe.

You’d get him back, even if you had to go through a thousand of them.

This time, when your eyes met Tristan’s, they were steady. They were hard. The scared daughter was gone.

“I’m ready,” you said evenly.  
“Well, it’s a good thing I brought these then,” Tristan smiled, reaching onto the seat beside him.

He returned with two familiar long, thin, objects. Chuckling slightly, you took them from him. One you placed across your lap, while you held the other aloft in front of you. Hands closing around either end, you pulled gently. The leather sheath slid back to reveal the shining metal inside.

Pulling the katana entirely free of its scabbard, you allowed the light to reflect off it. It glittered, casting dancing beams around the interior of the helicopter. Smiling, you regarded it for another fond moment, before quickly sliding it back into its sheath. Standing, you began to slide your arms through the straps, fastening the buckles at your side. The heavy blades felt reassuring against your back, and you felt yourself smiling despite the situation.

“Thank you,” you told Tristan softly.

“I need you at your best,” he replied. “You’re at your best with them. Even if you do look like a fucking ninja turtle.”

You laughed once, clapping a hand to your face. It didn’t last long though, the mirth died down momentarily. The whirr of the chopper registered once more, and your eyes fell to the skyline before you.

“How long?” You didn’t have to specify.

“Under ten minutes,” Tristan replied, adjusting his blazer.

“And the game plan?”

“Land on the roof. I need to get down to the security room on the ground level to knock out the cameras and get rid of the existing footage. You go straight for Harry. Whoever is behind this may have sent people after him. Get there first, Bedivere.”

“I will. Where is he?”

“Second floor, far end. Room 213.”

Minutes ticked by. You stared out of the helicopter worriedly, eyes fastening on rapidly approaching buildings on the horizon. Every whirr of the blades above you brought another tick of adrenaline. Gaze flickering past high-rises and huge corporate structures, eventually you found what you were looking for. The roof of the hospital, marked by the massive helipad at the top.

The chopper flew closer to it, and you felt your muscles tighten in anticipation.

“Ready?” Tristan asked, his mouth right against your ear.

You nodded. The helicopter, hovered, and dropped lower. You saw its shadow cover the huge ‘H’ painted in white on the concrete roof.

“Go!” Tristan’s voice barely registered because suddenly you could hear your heartbeat, the blood rushing through your veins and the sounds of the propellers above beating through the air.

You didn’t react, didn’t hesitate, just leapt off the helicopter and down onto the ground. Your boots collided heavily with the concrete, but you didn’t stagger. Picking up the pace, you raced across the roof, towards the door leading to the stairs. Your body collided with it heavily, forcing it open and it flew into the inside wall with a resounding bang.

Gripping the bannister with one hand, you held on for stability as your footsteps pounded down the steps. Down you went, floor by floor, until you were breathing heavily and your head was spinning. Your eyes suddenly fastened on the large, bolded ‘2’ painted the wall, and you skid to a stop.

Twisting around, your eyes fastened on a door. A small window near the top showed that it lead further into the building. Nodding to yourself, you hurried over and peeped through it. It was hard to not just shove it open and run, but you couldn’t. As little people as possible could see you, and the swords crossed at your back were not exactly inconspicuous.

A nurse passed through the hall but quickly disappeared into another room. Glancing around, you figured it was a fire exit. With no one else in sight, you slowly pushed the door open. It creaked slightly, but no alarms sounded. Silently, you slipped into the vacant hallway.

There was one of those maps on the wall nearby, of the floor’s layout. Pressing your finger against the glass covering it, you traced along until you found room 213. It was exactly where Tristan said, at the other end of the building. Almost a straight line from where you stood. Pushing yourself away from the wall, you set off down the hallway. A few people passed, but you lowered your head and ignored them. Some didn’t even notice you. It was hilarious how people could get caught up in their own worlds, and not notice the girl in the black military issue jumpsuit with two swords strapped to her back.

“_____?” Tristan’s voice rang out.

“Yeah?”

“The cameras are all off, and the footage has been erased. In and out as quick as you can. I’ll meet you once I find out what they know about Harry’s condition.”

“I’ll keep you posted, thanks Tristan.”

You began to relax as you got closer, knowing soon you’d be able to make sure that Harry was safe soon enough. Your guard began to relax, and your pace slowed ever so slightly. Just at that moment, two man appeared, reaching the top of the stairs. Immediately, you twisted, flattening yourself into a doorway.

“Clear,” you heard one say, and then footfalls began to echo out once again.

Tilting your head, you looked out from behind the wall. They were walking away now, backs turned to you. You skipped out from the doorway, eyes flickering around to check your surroundings. There was no one else there.

Hurriedly, you followed them. You didn’t want to fight in the middle of the corridor, but you couldn’t let them reach Harry. Becoming increasingly desperate, your eyes focused on a room on the left hand side of the hall, one that they were rapidly approaching. The door was open revealing a room filled with shelves. Some kind of supplies closet.

It was the best option.

Steeling yourself, you rushed forward. Your footsteps were light, but the one on the left seemed to hear as you approached. He started to turn, but it was too late. You slammed into the one on the right, knocking him into the other guy. They let out a yell of surprise, stumbling over each-other and falling into the room.

Following them in, you slammed the door behind you. By that time, one had struggled to his feet. He lunged for you, arms outstretched. You ducked under his hands, sending a hard kick into his chest. The force behind it pushed him back, slamming him into the shelves behind. The impact caused medicine supplies to spill, raining down his head and shoulders.

From the corner of your eye, you saw the other struggling to his feet, his shoes scuffling on the ground. His hand went to his belt, freeing his gun. Pointing it at you, he pulled the trigger. You twisted to the side. The bullet thudded into the wall beside you, releasing a cloud of dust. His eyes widened as he panicked, fingers fumbling with the gun. Shooting forward, you grabbed hold of his arm and directed it at the other man. It went off, and a scream wrent the air as he fell back. Blood spurted from his chest as the bullet buried itself in his flesh, coating one side of your body.

_Ugh._

The one in-front of you snarled, struggling to push you off. You wrestled with him, trying to gain the upper-hand, but he was much stronger than you. So you did what he didn’t expect, yank him forward and knee him in the groin. He doubled over, and you spun, one hand reaching to the katana on your back. Sliding it free, you brought it down in an arc, right across his throat.

His eyes went wide, hands flying to his neck. They scrabbled there, trying to hold the blood in. But there was no stopping it, and after a few seconds his movements weakened. You watched as he slumped over, dead.

Finally sure that they were both down, you allowed yourself to breathe a sigh of relief. You knelt down, taking hold of a towel off one of the lower shelves and wiping it across the blood coated side of your body. Kingsman suits were liquid proof, so it came right off without leaving any stains. When your clothes were dealt with, you mopped your face. _Couldn’t exactly walk up and down the corridors covered in blood, could you?_ Wiping a hand across your brow, you staggered away. With the fight ending, the rush of adrenaline began to leave your body. Your legs dragged slightly as you pushed the door open and stumbled out. Another quick glance around the hallway told you that no one else was there.

Almost tripping over your feet in your haste, you continued down the corridor. The rooms passed quickly, each number blurring. Your head whipped back and forth, trying to scan each of them before you moved on to the next. Then it flashed in-front of your eyes. _213._  

Skidding to a stop, you threw yourself at it. You collided heavily with it, pain lacing up your body. It flung open, and you spilled into the room. Almost tripping over your heels in your haste, you barely managed to stay upright. Your eyes fastened on the bed, and the person in it.

“Harry,” it was torn out of you, a ragged whisper.

Your hands grasped the metal railing of his hospital bed as your eyes roved his face. He didn’t respond, just lay there unmoving. A breathing tube was in his nose, and his face was pale. In the bed, he seemed smaller. Weaker. It made your heart twist painfully.

Tentatively, you reached out. Your fingers brushed his skin nervously, and you always sagged with relief to feel its warmth. For some reason, you had been afraid that he would be dead.

“Hi,” you murmured softly, brushing some hair gently off his forehead. “I’m here now. You’re gonna be okay.”

“Kid?” Tristan’s voice crackled in your ear.

Twisting away, you pressed your hand over your comms unit. “Yeah?” There was a slight hitch to your voice.

“I’m coming. Stay put until I get there. You can’t move him and defend him at the same time.”

“Copy that.”

Reaching up, you slid the swords on your back free.They made a metallic hiss as they left the scabbard. Moving in-front of the bed, you readied yourself incase you had to fight again. Minutes dragged painfully by, until Tristan’s face filled the square window upon the door. Opening it quickly, he slid inside. His concerned eyes fixed on Harry as he strode over to the bed, his hand coming to rest reassuringly on your shoulder.

“How is he?”

“He’s breathing. Not conscious,” you told him.

“We’ll get him back and Merlin can take a look at him,” Tristan said. “Come on. You go first, cover us.”

You nodded, watching and Tristan ducked around behind Harry’s bed. Grasping hold of the headboard, he inclined his head towards you. Letting out a long exhale, you slid towards the door and peeked out the window. There was no one in the hall. As quickly as you could, you shoved the doors open, holding one so that Tristan could push Harry’s bed through.

“We need to get to the elevator,” your friend told you as he passed, muscles in his arms straining from the weight of pushing the bed.

Once they were clear, you let the doors swing closed. Quickly, you rushed forward. You were aware of the light patter of your feet as you moved. Behind you, the wheels on the bed creaked as Tristan increased his pace, his breathing becoming harsher as his strain increased. You turned back to check that he was alright, just in time to see his expression change.

Lunging forward, you grabbed the umbrella on his waist. You whirled back around, popping it open as you did, just as gunfire began to wrent the air. The bullets hit the umbrella, not penetrating its membrane, but each shot caused your arm to jerk back with the impact. At the same time the door to your right opened, and a medical trolley appeared. Your arm shot out, seizing hold of a scalpel. The umbrella dropped from where you’d protectively raised it, and you spun. The scalpel left your hand, spinning in the air, before embedding itself in the eye socket of the man holding the gun.

He slumped to the ground on impact, dead as the sharp blade bit into his brain. In the doorway, the nurse who had been pushing the equipment trolley began to scream. Raising your arm just before your face, you quickly turned the face of your watch to select amnesia dart, before firing it into her neck. Her hand clapped over it, and with a final squawk her eyes rolled back in her head and she hit the ground.

“You should really start carrying your umbrella,” Tristan grumbled as you handed his back to him.

“I have my hands full with the swords,” you replied with a shrug.

“Swords don’t stop bullets,” he reminded you.

Instead of answering, you simply rolled your eyes before gesturing at him to hurry up. You could hear shouts from the lower floors, and the rapid footfall of boots on stairs. Sharing a concerned look, you and Tristan increased your pace. Grabbing the front of the bed, you began to pull it with you as you ran, while Tristan still pushed from behind. Together, you managed to move quicker, aware of the people swarming the corridors behind you.

You burst through the double doors, and then the elevator was in sight. Letting go of the bed, you sprinted forward to slam your hand into the button. The screen on top light up, showing the elevator was on its way up from the ground floor. It felt like it took minutes. Cursing to yourself, you glanced back just as Tristan arrived beside you. Nervously, you risked another look back at the hallway behind. You could see fast-moving shadows on the wall.

“Come on,” you growled, banging your closed fist against the button again.

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then the doors opened with a cheery ‘ding!’ You gasped in relief, sagging slightly. Recovering quickly, you reached out and helped Tristan maneuver Harry’s bed inside the lift. Finally having it positioned, you shared a relieved look. Just then, the doors at the end of the hallway burst open, and a swarm of men dressed in black burst through. One raised a gun, but the elevator doors seemed to take mercy on you and shut just as bullets began to dent the metal.

“Fuck,” Tristan swore loudly.

You risked another look at Harry. Three would stand a better chance than two and some deadweight. But Harry remained unconscious, and your heart sank further in your chest.

The doors opened once more, and together you hurriedly wheeled Harry and his bed out. It was then that you realised the next obstacle. The lift didn’t go up to the roof.

“I’m going to have to carry him,” Tristan said as shouts began to fill the stairwell, metres away from you.

Closing your eyes, you tried to centre yourself before letting out a single nod. “Go. Up the stairs. If they come, I’ll hold them off.”

He was silent for a moment, staring at you. Despite the fact that you bickered almost constantly, you knew he loved you. You loved him too. He didn’t want to leave you to fend them off yourself, you could tell.

Gently, you touched his arm.

“I’m a Kingsman,” you reminded him softly.

For a moment he was silent, but then a particularly loud shout drew both of your attention away. When your eyes returned to each other a few seconds later, there was a small smile on his face.

“I know,” he said tenderly, reaching out to cup your face. “Be safe, kid.”

Patting his arm briefly, you then removed it from your face. Stepping back, you watched him bend down and hoist Harry from the bed. Your godfather lolled listlessly in his arms, and you forced back tears. You had honestly never been more terrified. And not for yourself.

You could hear them now, coming closer. Tristan cursed beside you, and as you turned to look at him, your eyes fastened on the hospital bed.

“Go,” you told him suddenly. “Get going. I’ll meet you up there. I have an idea.”

He arched a brow, but instead of asking he simply nodded. “Don’t get shot.”

And then he was gone, jogging up the stairs with Harry draped over his shoulder. For a moment, you watched him go, before you quickly shook yourself. Moving back, you braced your arms against the back of the bed, before beginning to push it down the corridor. It picked up momentum as you started to gain speed, bearing down on the set of doors leading to the stairwell. You hit them like a freight train, sending them flying open. The bed shot through, dragging you with it as you tried to pull back. It hit the far wall directly above the stairs heavily, almost causing you to pitch over and onto it.

More yells echoed, and as you spun around in panic you could see the group of thugs running up the last few steps towards you. Dancing back, you did the only thing you could. Lunging forward, you gave the bed a shove, bundling yourself against it. It rocked, before the wheels spun. It tipped, wheels touching air as they crossed over the first step, and then it was quite literally downhill from there.

The bed tumbled, rolling down the stairwell. The yells turned into screams as it smashed into the men, flattening them to the ground or knocking them down the concrete steps, only to come baring down on top of them once again.

You didn’t even pause to catch your breath before you were down, both swords freed from their scabbards and singing through the air. The first man struggled to his feet, his arm bent abnormally. Your katana met his neck before he could even stand straight, slicing his head clean off. The other erupted through the chest of a different man, before you twisted, moving further down the steps to impale your blade through the stomach of a man still in the ground. The fourth man wasn’t moving, his neck twisted at an unnatural angle. The fifth came at you, raising his gun, but your weapon slashed at him before he could pull the trigger. The gun, along with the arm holding it, hit the ground. He screamed, but the other blade burying itself in his throat cut him off. The sixth cowered back, but it didn’t stop you from moving forward to slice the katana across his stomach, spilling guts onto the ground.

You were standing at the bottom of the stairs now, breathing heavily. Sheathing one sword again, you wiped a hand across your brow before looking back up the stairs. Turning on your heel, you sprinted back up the steps, pausing only to grab the gun off the ground. Once more, you burst through the doors, crashing up the remaining stairs to the roof in your haste. You yanked open the door, the sound of helicopter blades immediately reaching your ears. Tristan was inside, his arms checking Harry’s straps. Seeing you, his face lit up in relief. You grinned at him, before running across the ground towards the helicopter.

And once more, you saw his face change. _Shit._ You threw yourself to the side, just as the ground where you’d stood was torn apart by a hail of bullets. Dust filled the air around you. Scrambling in behind the water tank, you risked a look out. Seven men had followed you onto the roof, now mainly focusing their fire on Tristan and Harry. Swearing, you yanked the hand gun you’d taken out of your belt, twisting back to fire some rounds to keep them occupied. In the helicopter, Tristan also returned fire, from his position crouched at the side.

There was no way you could make it across to him without being shot.

He seemed to realise this too, his eyes casting around the chopper briefly. He seemed to notice something, because he suddenly ducked away. The men took advantage to converge on the helicopter, so you lifted your head above the barrel to fire rounds to keep them at bay.

There was a burst of static in your ear, before Tristan yelled your codename. “Bedivere!”

You whirled around, just to see him throw something at you. It landed on your body, lashing you in the shoulder as it did and you hissed in pain. Fumbling with it, you saw it was a rope. The kind special ops used to slide down from choppers. Immediately, you knew what he wanted. Quickly, you crouched down behind the water tank, tying it tightly around your waist.

When you were happy, you nodded at him. He nodded back, before shouting at the pilot. The propellers spun faster, and you watched as the chopper began to rise into the air. The men moved forward, and you leaned around the side of the tank to shoot at them again. Only three remained now that you and Tristan had previously taken down some.

Your hair blew back from your face as the helicopter lifted off completely. One of your hands gripped the rope, knowing what was about to happen. Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself, before leaping to your feet. You kept your head low as you raced forward, placing one foot on the edge of the building before vaulting off and into the air. The rope snapped taut, stopping you in the air but bringing with it a burn of pain from around your waist. The helicopter roared above you, carrying you further away from the roof. You held onto the part of rope above you with one hand, the other holding the gun as you fired off more rounds towards the building. It was difficult, shooting while swinging freely from a rope. Still, you managed to take down one more before you got too far.

When it was finally over, you felt yourself beginning to shake. Looking down wasn’t a good idea, so you tried to stay away from that. The wind rushed past you, tugging at every part of your body. You felt precarious, and all of a sudden the rope digging into your stomach felt less secure. Gulping, you lifted the hand holding the gun to press into your comms unit.

“Tristan, for fuck’s sake, get me up there.”

 

***

 

“He’s not going to wake up soon, is he?” It wasn’t a question, and it didn’t even sound like your voice. It sounded lonely, desolate. Heartbroken.

You sat on the edge of Harry’s hospital bed, holding his hand in your own. Multiple machines and wires surrounded him, and just looking at them made you feel ill. Your fingers stroked lightly over his skin, and every few seconds your eyes would jump to his, checking for any sign of a reaction.

Merlin cleared his throat uncomfortably, shifting his tablet in his arms. “He might, lass. Don’t lose hope, alright? But we simply don’t know. It’s a coma, and we have no idea what he was exposed to in there.”

You tried to inhale but the breath hitched in your throat. Squeezing your eyes closed, you nodded to yourself. Moving across the room, you sat down on the side of the bed. Your eyes roved Harry’s face. He looked older, more tired. Reaching out with trembling fingers, you took hold of his hand. Once more, your eyes flicked to his face, trying to glean any reaction.

_None._

Tears began to blur your eyes.

_Not Harry. Not him too. Please._

Merlin’s hand landed on your shoulder, his touch solid and reassuring. You leaned into it, resting your forehead against his arm. Breathing in deeply, you then let out a shaky sigh.

“Take the rest of the day off, lass. I’ll stay with the recruits.”

“Okay,” you agreed, too exhausted to fight it.

First Lance, and now Harry. It was almost unbearable. But at least you still had that desperate hope that he would recover.

Merlin’s breath puffed against your hair, before he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “Go get some rest.”

He drew back, and you shook your head. “No. I think I’ll just stay here for a bit. With Harry.”

“Do you want me to stay with you?”

“I’m alright. I’d just kind of like to be alone… With him.”

“As you wish. Let me know if you need anything. I’ll be checking in.”

“Okay,” you said weakly, and then his touch vanished.

You heard him cross the room, and then the door quietly clicked closed behind him. Feeling your hand shake, you squeezed your eyes shut and let out a shaky breath. The familiar feeling in the back of your throat welled up, and you knew that you were going to cry soon. Shaking your head, you focused on the mattress as you pushed back against the emotions threatening to take over. It took a few minutes, but you managed to push them back.

Your eyes flickered to Harry’s face, roving over the brown hairs that all of a sudden looked so much more grey, the lines that you swore he didn’t have two days ago, and the sickly pallor of his skin. He looked weak, and it fucking terrified you. Shifting your position, you leaned forward to gently fluff the pillow behind him, before smoothing his hair back from his face as you retracted your hand. He didn’t react.

“Did you get to read the paper this morning?” You said softly. “You always read the paper.”

There was no answer, not that you’d expected one.

For a moment you just sat there, unsure of how to act. In your pocket, your phone beeped. You didn’t bother to answer it, just stared into space. Suddenly, an idea popped into your head. Reaching into your pockets, you dug your phone out and turned it on. Once it was unlocked, you opened up the browser and typed in BBC news. Immediately, articles began to pop up on your screen.

You smiled sadly, taking another look at Harry. He lay unmoving. Only his chest rose and fell ever so slightly.

“I know it’s not a good old fashioned newspaper,” you told him softly, “but it will do for today, right?”

No reply.

Looking back down at the screen, you clicked into the first article and began to read.

 

***

 

About an hour later, Merlin returned. This time Arthur was with him. The older man’s face softened when he caught sight of you, and once more you had to fight not to cry. Rising off the bed, you moved towards him. He opened his arms, only to wrap them around you as his chin rested on your head.

“I’m so sorry, little one,” he said with a sad shake of his head. “I know how hard this must be for you.”

Not trusting yourself to speak, you just simply nodded. Arthur released you, and you went and sat down back down at the side of his bed. You picked up Harry’s hand again, turning to gaze at his face as the other two men began to speak.

“His MRI shows no sign of concussion,” Merlin said. “No direct brain trauma at all.”

“How much longer can he be out?” Arthur asked.

You held your breath.

“That’s the million dollar question,” Merlin answered. His face was serious. “We don’t know what he was exposed to in there.”

“What about Harry’s footage? It didn’t stream to his home terminal?” Arthur suggested.

Merlin sighed loudly, and you could hear him shifting on his feet. “Encrypted and uncrackable. If and when he comes ‘round you might have a word with him about sharing his password.”

You chuckled, but it quickly died in your throat when another voice rang out.

“Is he gonna be alright?”

Looking over your shoulder, you saw Eggsy Unwin standing behind Merlin. He was dressed in a checkered jumpsuit, and staring at Harry with concern on his face. His eyes caught yours momentarily, but you looked away, not wanting him to read the agony in your expression.

Merlin turned around, sighing slightly. “You need to have patience, Eggsy. But there’s hope, okay? If I were you, I’d concentrate on my training. Make it through the tests, make him proud.”

You snuck a look back, just in time to see Eggsy nodding. Once more, his eyes fell on you. Before you could turn your eyes away again, he asked. “Are _you_ okay?”

You bit your lip, not wanting to seem weak before any of them. However, the concern in his voice made you want to cry even more. You hated him for that.

Looking him directly in the eyes, your words were clear. “Fuck off.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the love. Feel free to give more bc I shamelessly crave validation.
> 
> P.S. Bedivere is a meanie here, I know. She gets better soon. Get her time, the poor girl has gone through some serious shizz.


	5. Chapter 5

“Since your combat lessons yesterday were postponed, Agent Bedivere will be taking you all day today,” Merlin said smoothly, leading them through a maze of corridors. His trust clipboard was clutched to his chest, and his face was drawn and serious. “I will warn you, she will not be in the best form. So no funny business.”

There were nods of agreements from the recruits, but no one spoke. There was a palpable tension in the air. The Kingsman agents were all upset and worried after Harry’s incident, and the prospects all knew better than to piss them off, even Rufus and Digby, who Eggsy thought of as being a bit thick.

Merlin’s eyes ran over them, checking for any sign of non-compliance. After a few seconds, he nodded to himself. He seemed satisfied. Motioning for them to continue, he took them down a few more twists and turns, before finally entering a room. The recruits all trailed in after them. Huge windows lined the wall opposite, and Merlin strode towards the one in the very centre. Stopping when he reached it, he seemed to wait for them to join him. They did, clustering around and looking out. 

The window didn’t lead to the outside, but rather overlooked a huge room. The walls of it were white, the ground lined in deep blue. Exercises machines lined either side, well spaced and strategically separated so the operators would have plenty of room. In the very centre was a large area of raised surface, a raised circle outlined by ropes. It looked like a boxing area, but it was the biggest Eggsy had ever seen.

“We are currently standing in the observation room overlooking the training centre,” Merlin told them in a business-like tone. “This is where you will do most of your combat training. The is a gun range off through the door up there on your left,” he indicated towards the area, “which you will also spend a deal of time in. Agent Bedivere may decide on certain days to take you outside for these things, but it is entirely at her discretion.”

“Looks sick,” Eggsy whispered to Roxy, who nodded in agreement. 

“Agent Bedivere will meet us down below,” Merlin said, “so let’s get going.”

At the side of the observation room was a staircase descending down to the lower levels. Along with the others, Eggsy trooped after Merlin. It was a spiral staircase, mostly metal, and their footsteps clattered down it as they walked. 

He wasn’t particularly looking forward to seeing you again after you’d snapped at him the previous day. You seemed to have quite a bit of a temper on you, though it had obviously been made worse by Harry’s condition. In a way, Eggsy could understand. The two of you were obviously close.

You were standing at the bottom, dressed in an black tracksuit bottoms and a grey tank top. On your feet Eggsy recognised black Adidas NMDs with a white sole. It seemed a bit surreal to have a Kingsman agent dressed so casually. A purple duffel bag was slung over your shoulder, and while your stance screamed relaxed, he could tell it was forced. There was a paleness to your face, and your hand gripped the strap of your bag far too tight. However, it was the eyes that gave it away. They held a haunted, anguished expression that he had seen once before.   
In his mother’s eyes when he was a small boy.

“Good morning,” you said curtly, shifting the bag. “I hope you all slept well. You’re in for a long day.” 

Looking at Merlin, you nodded to him. He returned the gesture, a soft look in his eyes as he regarded you. His mouth opened and for a moment it seemed like he might say something. Seeming to change his mind, he instead just quietly left the room. All attention immediately focused on you.

“Come on,” you sighed, seemingly irritated over being made do this. “I’ll show you the layout.”

Pushing open two double doors, you strode into the training room. It was probably around the length of a football field. As with everything else here, it was unreal. Eggsy had never seen anything like it. Despite their wealthy upbringings, it seemed like all the others hadn’t either.

“So you have all your normal exercise equipment on either end of the hall,” you informed them, sounding a lot like a bored tour guide. “Weights machines, rowing machines, treadmills, cross trainers… You name it, it’s probably here. The sparring ring is obviously that raised platform in the centre. It’s big, because we keep our fights realistic. They’ll often hold more than two people, as in the field you will have to dispatch multiple hostiles at once, upon a fairly regular basis.”

Leading them over to a door on the right hand side, you pushed it open and gestured inside. “This is the changing room. On other days you will use this to change into the appropriate clothes when you come here after lessons. It contains bathroom and shower facilities.”

There were two doors up the hall on the left. You opened the first, and led them inside. It opened up into a wide, long room. The gun range that Merlin had previously spoken about, it seemed. The floor were a cream coloured marble, with grey padded walls and black stands. There was glass separating the stands, which Eggsy felt was most likely bullet proof. 

Stepping over the the wall, you tapped on a panel. It slid open, revealing a tablet. Your fingers clacked on the screen as you pressed a few buttons in quick, practised succession.

You hit another button, and in the speakers overhead a woman’s voice began counting down. 

“Five. Four. Three. Two. One.”

When she hit zero, there was a split second of nothing, before cardboard cutouts began to pop out from the floor in-front of the shooting stations, so fast that Eggsy barely had time to see them.

Some had ‘hostile’ written on them, while others sported the word ‘civilian.’ They appeared and disappeared quicker than he could count, and within a few seconds the simulation was over. The intercom spoke again.

“0 out of 57 targets eliminated. 0 out of 17 civilians shot.”

“There are a number of settings, each varying in difficulty,” you announced. “We will be spending a lot of time in here, eventually building up to the final level that you have just seen. There is a more interactive version of this, which you will see in the next room.”

Motioning, you ushered them back out the door ahead of you. Once they were clear, you strode past the group and up to the next door on the left. They filed in after you, like ducklings. Eggsy’s head swept around as he entered, looking around the room. It appeared to be another viewing room, except it was ground level with the space it overlooked. A wall of glass separated it from the other, an open, arena style room. Large spotlights hung from it’s high ceiling, and in the centre stood a slightly raised platform. 

Twisting around, he searched the room for you. You were at the wall, typing into another pad. There was a click, and a panel in the wall opened up, revealing a vast array of weapons. Running your eyes over them critically, he saw your gaze come to rest on something. You reached out, taking hold of a sheathed blade. Turning on your heel, you held it out to the group.

“Can anyone tell me what this is?” You asked, sliding it open to reveal a slightly curved blade.

“A katana, ma’am,” Charlie replied.

You nodded at him. “Correct. And this?” Using the sword as a pointer, you gestured to a gun.

“A sniper rifle,” Eggsy answered, leaning forward slightly.

“Also correct. What about… This one?” 

“Subby,” Hugo answered, hands clasped behind his back.

Your brow arched. Eggsy swore he knew someone else who made the exact same gesture. He just couldn’t think of who. The condescending expression on your face was also reminiscent of someone else.

“A what?” You stared evenly at him.

He reddened slightly. “A submachine gun.”

“Yes. Use the proper terminology next time.”

Reaching back, you took hold of a large gold bangle also on the wall. Eggsy had no idea what it was used for. Fiddling with it, you managed to secure it on your wrist before looking back at them. 

“Watch,” you simply instructed, before striding forward towards the arena style room.

You hit a button on the door frame as you entered, throwing the discarded scabbard back into the room. The glass door slid over just as it landed, sealing you in the room. Lights flickered on overhead, and Eggsy watched as you approached the platform. The sword swung lazily in your hands, but the move was practised and sharp. Like you had done it countless times before.

Stepping up onto the platform, you went to stand in the centre of it. The lights began to flash, quicker in succession. Bending your knee slightly, you dropped into a defensive stance. The sword was held at a slant in-front of you. The lights glared, and then two joined together. 

Eggsy jolted in surprise as a figure burst from them, rushing at you. You twisted, slashing the blade across their stomach. And then he disappeared, like he was never even there.

Someone else appeared. Spotting them, your eyes narrowed as you took off full tilt towards them. The man lifted an arm, pointing a gun at you. He fired and you dropped to the ground, sliding across the polished floor and through the gap in his legs before bringing yourself into a crouch just behind him. Metal sang as you sliced at the back of his legs. His knees buckled, and he went down. The sword flashed by his head, and then he was gone too.

Eggsy shook himself, not understanding what was happening. Why were men appearing out of thin air, and bodies vanishing as if they had never existed?

“Holographs,” Roxy whispered, obviously noting his confused expression. Catching his gaze, she nodded upwards. “The lights.”

Eggsy followed her eyes, squinting as he stared at the lights high above you. He saw them change slightly every time a new figure apparated.  _ Ah ha. _

With that figured out, he turned his attention back to the fight. You were circled by three figures now, ducking hits and gunshots. Your katana lashed into one’s throat, and he was gone. Another raised a gun towards you but you severing his arm stopped him from ever pulling the trigger. The final figure approached behind you, and you lashed the solid handle of your blade back into his face. He staggered away, and Eggsy couldn’t help but think this was the coolest shit ever. The holographs reacted the same way actual people would to the hits. It was incredible.

Your sword erupted from his chest, and then he was gone too. You stood alone on the floor, breathing heavily. Then, a holograph formed behind you. Another arm raised, ready to shoot at the back of your unaware form.

Without warning, you whirled around. Your sword left your hand, sailing through the air in an arc before embedding itself in the figure’s chest. He disappeared, just as all the others had. The lights dimmed, a sure sign that the simulation had finally ended. 

They all watched in silence as you held up your arm, hand outstretched towards the katana. It lay where it had fallen, far away from you.

“Is she trying to use The Force or something?” Rufus scoffed, causing the others to laugh.

Eggsy rolled his eyes but ignored him. He was curious. His eyes fixed on the sword. He could have sworn that he saw it tremble.

Then it zipped through the air, and back into your hand. Handle first and everything. It almost collided with the gold bracelet on your wrist. You looked down at it, seeming pleased. He watched as you nodded to yourself, before carefully placing the sword on the ground as you crouched to retie your shoelaces.

“What the fuck,” Charlie said.

“Agent Bedivere is an excellent swordswoman,” a familiar voice rang out from behind them. Merlin pushed through the crowd and moved up to the glass, watching you emotionlessly. “An odd preference, but in her case, extremely effective. Give her one sword and she’s lethal. Give her two and she’s unstoppable. And so you know, she usually fights with two.”

The glass door hissed open, and you stepped through. You had barely broken a sweat. Stooping down, you snatched the sheath off the ground and slid the sword back inside it. Glancing up, your eyes fixed on Merlin.

“The recall needs more work,” you told him. “It took too long.”

“I’ll make the magnetic pull between it and the bracelet stronger,” he conceeded. “That should do the trick.”

“Let me know when it’s ready and I’ll try it out,” you answered. 

“Of course,” he replied. “I just came to check in, I’ll see you later.”

You nodded at him, shouldering past the group of recruits to place the sword back into its slot on the wall. Obviously registering the returning weight of the stand, it smoothly slid back into the wall and the entire panel closed over. Flicking your fingers at the recruits, you once more had them follow you back out. This time, you just headed for the ring in the centre, ducking under the ropes with the ease of someone who had done it many times before. Straightening up, you looked at the rest of them, grouped on the ground below.

“So, I guess it's time to begin your combat training,” you said simply. “Do I have any volunteers for a little demonstration?”

No hands went up. No one was confident enough to take you on. Not after what they’d just seen. It was a smart move on everyone’s behalf. 

You sighed, hands falling to your hips. “Come on. I need someone.”

More silence. Eggsy was just about to raise his hand, when Charlie stepped forward.

“Alright. I’ll do it.”

“Thank you,” you said, looking somewhat pleased with him. “Come up here, please.”

Charlie did as asked, ducking under the ropes and stretching when he came upright. Eggsy didn’t miss the way he grinned at you, very obviously looking for your attention. You weren’t even looking at him, your eyes instead resting on the recruits remaining on the ground.

“Hesketh, stand next to me,” You motioned with a wave of your hand.

Charlie slid across the platform, until his shoulder barely brushed yours. Cocking your head, you ran a critical gaze down him, before turning back to the others. Taking a step forward, you began to speak.

“Everyone thinks that fighting is just knowing how to kick and punch, but it’s much more than that. You need to be able to seize opportunities, anticipate the next move, and catch your opponent off guard. The best way to do that is to immediately learn how to recognise the strengths and weaknesses that you both have. Take myself and Hesketh, for example. If I was to fight him, what would be his advantage?”

It was a fairly obvious answer, but for a moment no one spoke. Beside him, Roxy shifted before raising her hand.

“Yes, Mortan?” You asked.

“He’s bigger than you,” she commented, lowering her arm.

You nodded. “Exactly. He’s taller and stronger than me. He’s more muscular. Now, what are my advantages?”

Eggsy and Hugo raised a hand. You pointed to Hugo. 

“You’re better trained,” he answered evenly, drawing another nod of confirmation from you.

“Correct.” Eggsy kept his hand in the air. You hesitated slightly, but then motioned to him. “Unwin?”

“You’re quick,” he answered. “We just seen you fightin’, and you’re fast.”

The ghost of a smile touched your lips. “This is also true.” You paused for a slight moment, before adding, “good eye.” 

He inclined his head, feeling quite chuffed that he was able to get the tiniest bit of praise off Agent fucking Bedivere. 

“So I’m quicker and better trained, while Hesketh is bigger and stronger than me,” you continued. “While I stand a good chance, it would only take one single good hit from him to be able to daze me. And that can mean game over. So I need to be smart when I fight, and use what I do have to my advantage.”

“Is that why you use them swords?” Eggsy asked before he could stop himself.

You paused for a split second, before nodding. “Katanas are more so made for slashing and slicing. They’re used for speed rather than strength, which suits my particular fighting style. As well as this, my swords are specially made with a unique metal alloy to be both light and durable. However, next time that you wish to speak, Unwin, you can raise your hand.”

He nodded, too pleased that he actually got an answer from you to feel annoyed by your comment. 

“As well as this, I’ll use Hesketh’s shortcomings against him. You need to learn to recognise things about people on the spot, but sometimes you may have to fight someone you know. In that case, take your intimate knowledge and use it against them. For example, I know that Mr Hesketh is… competitive. He doesn’t like to lose, and he’ll get frustrated if he does. Frustration results in mistakes, which then leads to an easy victory for me.” You turned to Charlie, before stepping back a few metres. When you were satisfied, you held up a hand and beckoned with two fingers. “Come on. Try use my disadvantages against me.”

Charlie scoffed, casting a look back at his mates. Eggsy heard them chuckle, but nothing was said. You just stood there, eyeing Charlie expectantly. The recruit didn’t move, just waited for you to come to him. Eggys watched as your brow arched in annoyance. Then you laughed slightly, nodding appreciatively.

“Very good, Hesketh.”

He laughed, smiling happily at you. And then, he threw you a wink. It was like it happened in slow motion. Eggsy saw one of Charlie’s eyes dropped closed suggestively, and at the exact same time, you rushed forward. Dropping to a crouch, your leg shot out in an arc, sweeping his own feet from under him so he collided heavily with the matt below. Immediately, you bounded back to your feet.

Turning, you addressed the rest of them. “He started off well, using my own impatience against me. However, as you saw, he became complacent and lost focus. Because of that, he couldn’t anticipate my attack.”

Behind you, Charlie rose to his feet. An angry look was on his face. Shooting forward, his arms wrapped around you, intending to put you in a headlock from behind. Your own arms came up, right hand gripping his t-shirt, while your left hand yanked his thumb, breaking his grip on your neck. As you did this, you leaned forward quickly, pulling him as you did. Charlie’s own momentum carried him over your back and sent him crashing to the ground in-front of you. Still having hold of his arm, you planted a foot on his chest and twisted it, causing him to cry out in pain.

As one, the group of recruits let out an ‘ooof.’ Even Eggsy winced in sympathy. Before them you shrugged. 

“I told you he’d get frustrated,” you said simply. “Now pair up.” Leaning down, you offered Charlie a hand. He took it somewhat sourly, and you helped him to his feet with a pat on the back. It looked like you hit him a bit harder than you needed to.

Eggsy turned to Roxy, gesturing up to the sparring arena. She nodded, and together they headed up into the ring. You stood straight, watching everyone with impassive eyes as they made their way inside.

“Stand opposite one another,” you instructed. “The first thing I’m going to do is to teach you how to punch. Do you all know how to punch correctly? Thumb outside of the fist, and you twist your arm as you bring it up. Like _ this _ ,” you demonstrated.

Eggsy rolled his eyes. He’d been in the Marines. He knew how to punch. Apparently, some of these rich kids didn’t. Roxy didn’t, so Eggsy stepped forward to show her as you made your way around the other recruits, critiquing their technique. He was aware when you came to stand next to them, watching him carefully. 

For a minute, you didn’t say anything. Piping up, you suddenly asked. “What else do you know?”

“A lot of it, miss,” he answered. 

You nodded, looking like you just remembered something. “You were in the Marines.”

“Yes ma’am.”

He watched as you seemed to mull it over. Eventually, you straightened. “Move on to kicking when you’re done here, and then I’m going to have you all practise that throw I used on Charlie. At the end of this I want you to spar so I can see what stages you are all at.”

“Sounds good,” Eggsy agreed with a wide grin.

You didn’t smile back, just dipped your head and moved onto the next pair.

You went through a number of activities with them throughout the morning, teaching them a number of different moves, working your way up to throwing someone over your shoulder, and escaping a choke hold. It was all pretty easy stuff for Eggsy, but he enjoyed it nonetheless. It was nice to be better at something than the swells, though he could see them catching up sooner or later. Despite very obviously not wanting to be there, you were a decent teacher. 

A while later you let them break for lunch, before regrouping them when it was finished. You ran through the drills again, making sure each person had them down to sufficient standard. After a few hours, you clapped your hands together, drawing everyone’s attention. “Alright. Tournament time.” The recruits shuffled into line in-front of you, and you ran a critical eye over them. They waited as you paired them off, sticking Declan and Thomas against eachother, followed by Declan and James, Rufus and Digby. Roxy you put against Charlie, something Eggsy felt a flash of concern about. You stuck him with Hugo, the least pratty out of all the boys there. Once they were sorted, you separated them into different corners of the arena. Hugo flashed Eggsy a tight smile, before turning back to listen to you speak.

“Okay,” you nodded. “I’ve taught you a few things today. Be sure to use them, but I’ll say this. There are no rules in fighting, no matter what anyone says. There are only winners and losers.”

You had them spar then, until one person tapped out. Then, everyone would have to explain what each person had done right and wrong. The winners then went on to fight the winners, until one person came out on top. Eggsy was pretty damn fuckin’ proud of himself when it was him. 

Yeah, he did have an advantage with being in the army and all, but the others had had a general advantage in life. Charlie came second, but he ignored that. He’d managed to get a good hit into that prick’s smug face in the end.

You didn’t give too much praise, just did your usual thing of nodding to yourself and writing something on your clipboard. When they were done everyone was tired, sweaty and quite sore. Glancing up, you waved them away.

“Go use the bathrooms in the changing room. I need to clean up here a bit and then I’ll bring you back to your room to shower and get changed. Dinner is in an hour.”

People began to filter out of the room. Roxy shot Eggsy an expectant look, but he waved her on. She arched a brow, but shrugged and followed the crowd from the room. Lingering awkwardly, Eggsy shoved his hands in his pockets, suddenly feeling a bit shy. 

“Bedivere,” he called, making sure his tone was submissive. He didn’t want you to bite his head off again. “Can I have a word?”

You paused, but nodded and straightened up. He jogged over to you, falling into a walk as he moved closer. Impassively, you watched him approach. He fell into formation in-front of you, saluting sharply, and he could tell by the softening of your brow that he’d done the right thing.

“What is it, Unwin?” You asked, not as snappy as usual.

“I was, uhm, wonderin’ if there’s been an update on Harry?” He said, trying not to wring his hands together nervously.

Immediately, your face darkened. Your gaze shifted away, coming to rest on a spot slightly behind him. He thought that he saw your throat bob as you swallowed. Your fingers scraped against the side of the cone that you were holding.

“No change,” you eventually answered, staring at the wall behind his back. “Nothing at all.”

“Does Merlin have any news..?” Eggsy trailed off again.

You shook your head. “No one knows what happened, Unwin.”

“Shit one,” he sighed, shaking his head sadly. “That’s rough. I’m sorry.”

You started, surprise showing on your face. Once more, your eyes fixed on him. “I’m alright.”

He shrugged, reaching up to scratch his head. “I never said you wasn’t. I just… I really like the old geezer.”

You laughed slightly, a small smile curving your lips. It wasn't a real smile, not even close, but it was closer to one than any other expression he had ever seen you make. “Yeah, he likes you too.”

The less-guarded look on your face filled Eggsy with an inexplicable need to share more. “He knew my dad.”

Your brow furrowed. “Really?”

“Yeah, he said that he saved his life.”

For a moment, you stared at him. He saw you suddenly blink, before a mask dropped over your features. “What was your dad’s name?” You asked emotionlessly.

“Lee Unwin,” Eggsy replied. “He died. But I think he was involved in all this too, somehow.”

You were simply gazing at him, eyes running over his features. “Harry’s mentioned a ‘Lee’ on a number of occasions,” you said evenly. “I never made the connection.”

“Really?” Eggsy had a goofy smile on his face. He’d never admit it, but he loved hearing stories about his father. “What did he say?”

For a moment, silence stretched out between the two of you. Then you cleared your throat, and spoke. “That’s classified.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time on the Instructor... Training continues. Bedivere has a near miss. Will the knowledge of who Eggsy's father is cause some kind of paradigm shift between the two?


End file.
